At What Cost
by nebbyJen
Summary: Beckett and Sheppard become separated from the team during a bloody civil war. When help returns, only Sheppard is found. Ronon remains behind to find the physician when the others must leave.
1. Chapter 1

**At What Cost **by Nebbyjen

Summary: Caught in the middle of a bloody civil war, Sheppard and Beckett become separated from the rest of the offworld team. When a rescue team returns, only Sheppard is found. Ronon takes it upon himself to remain behind and search for the physician.

Season3/ Small Sateda spoiler

Categories: Hurt/comfort, angst, friendship, drama

Rated: T for dark content

Archived: Jumper Bay archive, FF, and my LJ

A/N: I just noticed that all the page breaks have disappeared. Hopefully I'll have them all back in within a day. Also, this is a bit different from what I usually put together. Honest criticism or thoughts would be welcome.

Warning: Darkfic. This story contains descriptions of torture and abuse. Not terribly graphic, but still to be safe, I'm giving you a heads up. It's not pleasant.

**At What Cost**

**Part 1**

Sheppard sat with his back to the crumbling wall in the damp, dark hellhole, his swollen eyes cracked open far enough that he was aware of every shadowy figure that moved nearby. The sound of many suffering in agony surrounded him. His own voice long gone, was wasted to a hoarse whisper as he tried to comfort the shivering figure huddled close to his side when the gate to the prison slammed open right on schedule. The harsh clang instantly caused the haunting moans to be stilled with fear of who would be taken next and he had to tighten his grip to keep hold of his charge when he felt the man's muscles tense and the trembling grow stronger. "Shh, doc," he ground out painfully, "help will be here soon. Just hold on a little longer."

Carson shifted fitfully, his filthy, swollen hand fisted in the colonel's shirt only tugged harder, pulling the ragged material taunt against the back of Sheppard's raw neck. Rope burn was a bitch but the officer remained silent, biting back a hiss before it could escape. Their situation was bad enough, he wasn't about to add more worries on the abused physician and have him pull away.

Over the past three days, they had come for Beckett and himself separately on four different occasions, every time leaving each man exhausted and physically unable to move due to pain from the beatings or whatever sick games the guards had inflicted. Sheppard still remembered the noose pulled snug around his own neck, the chair kicked out from under him, the coarse rope digging deeply a moment later. He felt the squeeze around his neck that made him struggle that much harder to survive as the guards jeered and spit on him before cutting him down at the last possible second. He could only imagine what they'd done to Carson, and since the doc hadn't spoken since being brought back after the second time, only his imagination could fill in the blanks.

The last he'd seen of the rest of his team was when a similar squad of angry soldiers had burst inside the small house they had been using as a shelter and grabbed Teyla. When she began to struggle, one man brutally struck her atop of the head and she fell without making a sound. Ronon instantly went for the assailant, breaking the man's thick neck with his bare hands. Calling for McKay to help her, the Satedean then cast a hurried glance to Beckett. "Stay behind Sheppard," he growled between strikes, taking a second guard to the ground, a third striking him repeatedly along his back with the thick stock of a rifle as the big man fought back.

Sheppard unfortunately was in the midst of battle himself with a pair of knife wielding goliaths, both of whom succeeded in inflicting at least one slice to each of his unprotected arms. Finally able to position himself in such a way as to sidestep the next strike, the blow instead plunging deeply into the second man, he grabbed the Scot by the arm and thrust him towards the rear door. "McKay, the gate!" he hollered without looking back, trusting Dex to finish off the remaining soldier.

By the time he'd made it to the side of the cottage, he'd spotted Rodney limping off into the protective cover of the nearby forest with Teyla draped awkwardly over his shoulder. Grabbing Carson by the sleeve, he motioned for the physician to follow before he returned to check on Ronon.

Moments later, he'd taken a shovel to the back of the final soldier's head, forcing the attacker to drop his strangle hold on Dex. The floor littered with unmoving bodies, the pair ran back out in time to see two more men race after their friends.

"I'll get Beckett, you get McKay and Teyla. Meet you at the gate," Sheppard yelled as he and Ronon split up.

That was the last he recalled until waking up in the current location with Beckett patting his face, calling his name over and over. "What happened?" he was finally able to ask as a little of the room came into focus. The telltale pounding to the back of his head let him know how they'd been able to take him down.

"There was a second squad," the physician whispered while wrapping torn pieces from his own shirt over the still bleeding gashes on Sheppard's arms.

"The others?"

Carson kept his head down as he shook it slowly. "I don't know."

It wasn't long after that that the guards had come and taken Beckett away, only to return him an hour later, tossing his limp form down on the filthy floor. The clothing that still clung to him was stained in dark patches and on closer inspection did Sheppard realize it was from blood.

"Doc?" he said softly, hesitantly rolling the injured man onto his side.

Carson cried out in pain, curling tight into a ball to protect his abused ribs and stomach muscles.

Trying to keep the battered man from the muck on the floor, Sheppard eased his bandaged arms underneath Beckett's shoulders and carefully lifted him to rest across his legs. "Carson, can you tell me how badly you're hurt?"

"Stomped on my foot. Broke…bone," the breathy reply mumbled after several long moments. "Second… second metatarsal… I think."

From the looks of it, a broken foot was the least of his troubles. "Anything else?"

"Used me…" he paused to cough painfully then spit out something that looked vaguely like a broken piece of tooth, "…like a bloody punching bag."

"Damn." The colonel knew he didn't fare much better and needed to tend to the physician. Tearing off a piece from the bottom of his own shirt, he used the scrap to wipe at the caked blood and dirt on the beaten man's face while looking for injuries. A nasty ragged cut across the right cheekbone still seeped freely so he tried to hold slight pressure without causing more pain. "Did they say what they wanted?" he asked when the Scot began to moan and breathe raggedly.

Carson swallowed, his arms wrapped around his gut in an attempt to stop another spasm. "No. Said…said I was prisoner of war." Not able to withhold the groan building in the back of his throat, he pressed his face against Sheppard's knees to stifle the sound.

"Doc?" All he got was a weakly waved hand in the air before it dropped bonelessly to the floor. Resting his own sore arm over the still form propped against him, he said the words he'd been telling himself since waking up earlier, "They'll come for us. Don't give up."

And now, two days later, Sheppard felt as though he had been saying those words for what seemed like forever. Carson no longer spoke, or made any noise for that fact. With the goon squad roaming the prison, picking out their next victims, even he was beginning to wonder what was taking Atlantis so long. Since waking up flat on his back, he hadn't seen any sign of Ronon or the others. Did they even make it back?

Beckett must have sensed his growing apprehension for the black and blue doctor eased his tight grip. The Scot's usually inquisitive persona had been beaten into a dull mask housing lifeless blue orbs. His head shifted slightly so that he could see the guards advance and when the menacing thugs stopped before the bedraggled pair, he struggled to stand.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Sheppard rasped, trying to tug him back down to the floor.

The dull blue eyes blinked back at him. With a shaking hand, he pointed to the infected, oozing wounds that marred the colonel's arms and then touched his own throat, slowly shaking his head.

"Carson," Sheppard ground out painfully, but it was too late. He watched the doctor being dragged away and there was nothing he could do to stop them. The clang from the heavy metal gates as they were slammed shut filled him with dread. Where the hell was Dex? Beckett wasn't going to last much longer. The physician was shutting down at a fast rate and Sheppard knew from having watched trained soldiers die under the similar conditions, that if the Scot hadn't broken yet, it would happen very soon.

"They are coming," he mentally told himself one more time. Exhausted, hungry, and so thirsty that the thought of the damp muck on the floor was beginning to have an appeal, he slid back to rest against the wall once more. The small amount of warmth that he'd shared with Carson quickly dispersed leaving him even colder, chills racking his fever-plagued body. With nothing left to do but wait until his friend was dragged back, he forced himself to rest and save his strength. For if there was to be a next time, he would be the one to go.

oOo

He didn't remember closing his eyes, so when the concussive force at the opposite end of the room blew the wall apart, leaving a big hole filled with lots of men carrying lights and guns, his groggy mind was no longer capable of comprehending that help had finally arrived. Moments later shouting voices echoed through the room, someone called out to him, hands touched his inflamed arms, and a mask was pressed over his face.

"Sheppard," one voice called over the persistent darkness that threatened to envelope him completely. "Sheppard, where's Beckett?"

That got his attention. Forcing his swollen eyes apart he tried to focus on the face only inches from his own. "Took him," he whispered harshly, his dry throat feeling raw as shattered glass. From out of nowhere the mask disappeared, water dribbled into his mouth, and he sucked at it greedily before it was pulled away.

"Who took him? Where did they go?" the voice demanded.

This time he recognized the deep tone and squinted at the face before him. "Dex?"

"Yeah."

Sheppard ran his tongue across his dry lips as the mask returned over his face. Struggling to sit up against the hands determined to keep him lying down; he weakly lifted a wavering hand and pointed to the large gates. "Took 'im," he repeated with next to no sound left.

Ronon growled rising to his feet but stopped when Sheppard's hand flopped against his leg. His large hand grasped the colonel's cold fingers, "I'll find him." He received the slightest squeeze before stepping back and tossing his pack over his shoulder. Blaster in hand, those around him cleared a path as he stormed across the room, ignoring the activity and bodies surrounding him. And then in a move that surprised none of the rescuers, he shot the lock off the gate.

Moments later he was gone from sight.

* * *

Carson stumbled hard only to be hauled roughly back up onto his damaged foot, which then gave out on the next pain filled step. When the guards thrust him to sit on a rickety wooden chair that had one broken leg so that it tipped unevenly, he slowly glanced at the opposite wall and noticed the loops of heavy hemp rope hung on a rusty hook. He knew what it was for, and resigned himself to the fact that he was going to die. His body no longer feeling pain, a strange numbness flooding throughout his arms and legs, he sat and waited for them to wrap the rope around his neck.

Rough hands grasped him harshly by his shoulders and forced him to stand while another slipped the noose around his neck. Taunts and jeers filled the air as the men spat on him, called him a traitor to the cause, and then shoved him roughly to stand unsteadily on the chair. The first time they'd taken him, he tried to tell them they were mistaken but they'd refused to listen, instead calling him a spy. During his unfortunate return to the chamber of horrors, he again attempted to explain that he was a doctor and not a member of the opposite warring faction. A brutish guard sneered at him before dragging in another ragged figure to room; a battered man who begged for mercy while confessing to be a spy. By the time the guards were finished, the lifeless body tossed to the side of the room, Carson knew there would be no reasoning for freedom.

And now, with death at hand, the end to experiencing such horrors so blissfully near, he closed his eyes and waited. His mind accepted the final step and shut down just as the door to the cell burst open. He fell when the chair was knocked out from beneath him but there was no pull on the rope around his neck. Collapsing to the floor, his head came to rest on the blood stained stone. The coarse rope that had yet to be pulled taunt by the guards…slid off. For some reason he was free.

Dormant survival instincts kicked in as he crawled across the floor on raw hands and knees. Sharp chipped shards dug deep into his beaten flesh, brutal fighting waged around him, but the physician's mind locked it all out. Only two things filtered through the darkness: escape and water.

**Part 2**

Ronon not only heard but felt the satisfying snap of vertebrae from the figure pinned in the crook of his arm. Dropping the lifeless body to the floor, he growled and turned ready to take on another of the guards only to find the remaining occupants of the room had already been disposed of by his own hands. With the toe of his boot he flipped one corpse off a body that it had fallen over, only to reveal that it wasn't Beckett on the floor. His dark eyes blazed as he searched the area and came up empty before emerging back out into the flickering lights that entombed the narrow passageway that was littered with filth and death.

"_Dex,"_ the radio crackled from inside his vest and he recognized Lorne's voice. _"We have Sheppard secure in Jumper One. Any sign of Beckett?"_

He stopped to stand in one of the exterior exits, the warm afternoon sun forcing him to blink several times as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. "Yes."

"_Do you need a med team to your position or can you get him here on your own? This place is going to hell in a hand basket fast and we need to get out of here ASAP."_ His words were highlighted by a pair of 'thump thump' blasts from an energy weapon firing at the jumper.

"Negative. I… lost him."

There was a brief silence over the radio before the major returned. "_Understood. Report back,"_ his orders left unfinished as another volley of energy bursts hit the jumper. _"Dex," _greater urgency now filled the major's voice, _"we have to scrub the mission. Get your ass back here. We can't hold them off much longer!" _

Ronon knew he didn't have a choice. Sheppard's rule of no man left behind reflected his own beliefs. A lone energy burst hit close to where he was standing, showering him with fragments of stone and debris, effectively cutting off his escape, making the decision for him. "No."

This time when the signal returned, the runner could hear the whine of the Jumpers as the small ships prepared to lift off. _"There's another bag of gear stashed on the southwest corner of the courtyard under a pile of bodies. You do know Weir's not going to be too happy with you staying in the middle of a civil war, don't you?"_ There was a brief pause before he continued, _"Find him and bring him back. Lorne out"_

That was all he needed. Quickly retracing his steps, Ronon made it back to the cell where he'd first seen Beckett, giving the area another sweep before making his way out to the courtyard for the remaining gear. Several guards attempted to stop him, never to make the same mistake again by the time he was finished. Minutes later, the supplies added to his own and tossed over his shoulder, he slipped away from the prison to begin his search.

oOo

Carson laid perfectly still, his eyes closed as he mimicked the dead bodies surrounding him in the dark hallway. Their gruesome twisted faces so close to his own that even behind his eyelids, he could still feel their stare upon him. When rough, uncaring hands grabbed him by the arms and then tossed him into the back of the wagon with the rest of the day's victims, he didn't emit a sound. Spent to the point of not caring, he felt the jolt and jostle of every step by the animals pulling the cart. When it came to a halt some time later, he was tossed to land in a crumpled heap, another tossed on top of him. And then another. Eventually he lost track of his surroundings, his mind refusing to recognize the horrors of his situation any longer.

And then there was silence.

After an unknown period of time, he stirred. The weight of the others pressed against his battered body stole his strength, every breath he labored for a pull of fresh air. The overpowering putrid stench of death and decay made him gag as he struggled to move, to emerge from the pit. It was the need for water that overrode all other instincts and soon he found himself free on the far end of the pile.

Weak from hunger and thirst, his every move sending waves of discomfort through bone and muscle, he made it to the edge of the torn up field on his hands and knees before he latched onto a tree and pulled himself to his feet. The world spun dizzyingly and he blinked to clear the black spots forming across his vision.

It was then that he got his first real look at his surroundings since… since he couldn't remember. Images slipped through his mind of faces that he couldn't put a name to, brief clips of voices without names. Instead all he had was a torn apart field, ragged from the wages of war filled with broken trees and sparse scrub grass, dry bare earth without life, and…. His eyes shifted back to the hole from which he'd climbed out. Suddenly awash in his most recent memories, he dropped back to his knees, his sides resisting the dry heaves that wrenched mercilessly on his sore stomach muscles. Empty, with nothing to expel, and exhausted beyond belief, he collapsed back onto the ground to stare up at the blue sky shining brightly overhead.

Large white clouds floated lazily high above reminding him of another place with wide open skies. Crinkling his brow, he tried to remember, only to catch glimpses of dark water reflecting the sun and the smell of… of what? Inhaling, trying to catch the memory, he instead smelled something that made him drag himself to sit up. His eyes wide as glanced over the surrounding field from his hidden position, he spotted the grey/black plumes rising high to mar the peaceful horizon.

'Smoke' his mind informed him as he whispered the word without sound. He knew enough that where there was smoke, there was danger, and he needed to get away. Using every last ounce of strength he had left, he worked his way back to standing, warily sending one last glance over his shoulder, before moving slowly in the opposite direction.

He stumbled until he could no longer see where he was going, sagging to the cool ground beneath the shelter of a large tree. Several times he had heard voices of people speaking from somewhere nearby and he froze so as not to be found. Each time the voices continued on past.

Night rapidly filled the dark sky with bright stars and a small sliver of moon, its beam casting brief comfort over the bedraggled figure huddled beneath the tree.

But there would be no rest for Carson, for the deep hollow growl of hunger made sleep impossible. His injured hands curled and held protectively against his chest, his knees drawn up to his elbows, his chin falling to his shoulder, he watched the darkness fold around him. What willing sleep would not grant him, his body decided on its own and shut down, leaving him with little to do but breathe until morning.

And when the sun returned, warming his chilled body, he could no longer move.

**Part 3**

Ronon didn't sleep that night; instead he combed the edge of the prison, searching for any sign of the missing physician. When he came upon one of the wagons filled with bodies, he followed it at a distance and then stood in the shadows to watch as more victims of the planet's useless war were disposed of. Fifteen minutes later the cart was gone and he worked his way to the edge of the pit. No matter how many times on countless planets he'd come across something similar, the brutality of a species against itself left him cold inside. What would they do if they saw their families culled right before their eyes, the wraith not caring who fought for what side. A warm body was nothing more than a meal.

Walking the perimeter of the pit, he used a flashlight to scan the lifeless faces, searching for what he dreaded he might find. Small animals quickly scrambled from the bright beam to burrow deep under the bloated corpses or scurry past his feet. Beckett deserved better than this.

A surprised squeak from one of the rodents as it was carried off by a larger predator caught his attention and he tracked its movement before it disappeared into the surrounding darkness. Only then did his eyes fall upon a small scrap of grey material along the ground. Picking it up between two fingers, he rubbed the fabric and recognized the texture as that worn by the Atlantis members. Spurred on by his find, he scoured the surrounding ground in search of another sign of the physician.

It was his tracking abilities, honed by years of avoiding the wraith, which guided him to the disturbance in the dry grass that led away from the pit. An occasional handprint and scuff marks could be seen, a drop or two of blood, more crushed grass from where someone had fallen. Soon after, he came upon the tree along the edge of the field. Here he discovered where the individual had been sick, more blood marred the ground, and yet another ragged, stained scrap of cloth.

His gut told him it was Beckett. Eyes to the ground, he found and followed every hint of a trail, winding his way through another field, alongside a road, and then to an ancient orchard now filled with barren trees. As the morning sun broke the horizon, he eventually spotted the missing physician.

Dropping to his knees, Dex hesitantly reached out to touch the exposed side of Beckett's neck, searching for any sign of life. Relieved to discover the barest thrum beneath his fingertips, he sat back on his heels and took stock of their situation.

First things first, he needed to get Beckett warm. It would be unwise to light a fire for he didn't know how far away some of the others might be, and he had a feeling they were close. His long coat would have to supply the heat necessary and if they were spotted, it wouldn't bring attention like an emergency blanket. Later he'd scavenge some clothing and get rid of the uniform, or rather, what was left of it.

A quick rummage through his pack, he located the small rolled case of first aid supplies that Lorne had left for him. With care that would surprise those who knew him, he tended to the one who had first freed him from a life of running.

oOo

Carson woke slowly to unfamiliar surroundings. The cumulative effects of the previous days of abuse left him weak and numb to the point of no longer caring if he stayed on the damp ground. His face pressed into short tufts of grass and the smell of bare earth brought on a bought of claustrophobia forcing his short breaths to increase, but he was unable to pull himself away.

A voice rumbled from nearby, a hand touched him briefly and he shuddered. His right eye, not pressed to the ground, flickered open in panic to reveal a large man seated mere inches away.

"Calm down, Doc. I'm not going to hurt you." Ronon watched Beckett's face for any sign of recognition and quickly realized that the physician was lost. "Name's Dex, from…" he paused, not wanting to cause further confusion, "Atlantis. Same as you."

That earned him a dazed blink, but nothing more. Reaching for his canteen, he frowned when Beckett's single eye widened in fear. "Water," he reassured, pouring a small amount on the ground between them. Slowly extending his arm, he held out the container. "Thirsty?" Judging by the gaze locked on his offering, he eased closer.

"We found Sheppard." Keeping his voice low, he held out his hand and waited until the eye glanced at it, paused a moment, and then returned to the water. "Lorne took him back on a jumper." His fingertips touched the filthy matted hair pressed to the ground. "McKay had Teyla to the gate when I met up with him." Nudging the bruised jaw, he tipped the Scot's face up and dribbled a small amount of liquid over the parched lips.

Carson's eye closed as he savored every drop. Greedily, he forced both of his puffy lids back open, hoping the man understood he needed more. Another trickle crossed his tongue and slid down his parched throat. When it stopped, he didn't understand why.

It was disconcerting to Ronon that Beckett had yet to move. His eyes narrowed, studying the bruised face before him. During the early morning hours he'd been able to clean most of the blood and grime away, but the pungent odor of the prison remained. "Don't mind me saying, Doc, but you could really stand to wash up a little." The comment that would usually provoke a verbal sparring match rewarded him with only a dull gaze.

"Hungry?" He rifled through is pack and withdrew a small purplish fruit. "Called a plum," he said, continuing to talk quietly. "I helped myself to a few from the commissary before leaving." He slipped a thin small knife out from the sheath at his waist to pare the treat but stopped when the doctor scrunched his eyes shut. Making quick work, he slivered the fruit into several small bites before tucking the blade away.

"Beckett, you need to eat something." Holding out a small piece of fruit, he let the juice drip on the doctor's mouth.

Carson lay still, letting the drop slide across his lower lip before he hesitantly touched it with his tongue. The taste was sweet and his long empty stomach wanted more. Daring to crack his gaze back open at the strange man, he eyed the fruit hungrily.

"Thought so." Piece after piece Ronon slowly fed the silent man. Once it was gone, he let the doctor have some more water before he put the canteen back in the duffel. "I need to get us some supplies. I won't be gone long." He settled the coat high enough to cover most of Beckett's curled figure then waited patiently until the sleepy gaze met his. "I will be back soon."

For some reason in Carson's muddled mind, he believed the big man, for the stranger made him feel safe. He watched through one eye until he could see him no longer, and then for the first time in he didn't know how long, sleep came easy.

oOo

It didn't take Ronon long to come up with several pieces of dry clothing liberated from unattended wash lines. And when he actually walked away from a bustling market place with a simple hand cart, no one stopped him. His rugged appearance blended with those filling the streets, his penetrating gaze daring anyone to question him.

He weaved his way between several sparse stalls, deliberately avoiding the occasional soldier who passed nearby. Purchasing a stiff loaf of bread with money he'd slipped from someone's pocket that'd walked by wearing an ill fitted cloak, he added it to the small pile of goods he'd accumulated. The warm sun high overhead, shadows small on the ground, he knew that the morning had passed quickly and it was time for him to return to Beckett before the physician awakened. They would need to remain out of site during the remainder of the day and move after dusk so as not to rouse suspicion. If successful, he'd have them both at the gate waiting for Weir to receive their IDC in less than twenty-four hours.

The road back to the orchard was marred and pitted with holes, years of neglect leaving it impassable to mechanized vehicles. Beasts of burden and weary foot travelers were sparse, giving him time to scout for a better location if they needed to relocate before sundown. He'd discovered from eavesdropping at the market that there was a lake within a short walking distance. Perhaps, for now they could move to a new location along the shoreline, giving him a chance to get some of the grime and stench off Beckett, and maybe find out what else was tormenting the doctor into not talking.

Ronon found his charge just as he'd left him but due to the warmth of the midday and the filthy condition becoming even more intolerable with sweat and body odor, a cluster of insects now crawled through the doctor's short dark matted hair. A swat to shoo them away caused a small swarm to erupt and then settle once again. When he pulled back the long coat in a sweeping motion to further scatter the pests, he woke the sleeping man instead. Startled, Beckett's eyes blinked open in fear, so he quickly put the coat back. "Doc?"

Carson warily looked at the man hunkered down at his side before brief glimpses of earlier flickered through his mind. Memories of water and fruit made his stomach growl and he looked hopefully at the empty hands open before him, then meeting the man's gaze.

"Figured you'd be hungry by the time I got back." Dex grunted, twisting off the canteen lid. He held it out to be taken but Beckett remained still, his eyes focused on the container. It was disconcerting not hearing the odd accent…and fact that the doctor had yet to move. Deciding to get a better look in the sunlight he lifted the coat to examine Beckett's hands that were twisted tightly against his chest.

Bruised and swollen knuckles, broken nails, and painful red welts that appeared to be burns were visible even with the filth. Anger washed over the runner and darkness flushed his face, once again causing the other to close his eyes in fear. Realizing what had happened, Dex reined in his fury and tried to appear calm. "You going to let me help you?"

Carson cautiously opened one eye and then the other at the sound of the big man's voice. The angry expression was gone and he had his hand out once more, almost touching Carson's face. He watched it move closer, holding his breath, waiting for the painful strike that never happened. Instead, it slipped beneath his head and lifted him gently. Warm water then trickled over his lips and he opened his mouth, allowing the heavenly liquid to spill over his tongue.

This time, the large man gave him enough to fill his mouth so that he could swish it over his teeth. The dry sticky feeling erased, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of it washing down his throat as he swallowed, then almost painfully hitting his empty stomach.

Dex watched closely, when Beckett appeared ready he gave him more. The frown that appeared and then look of distress took him by surprise. The return of the small amount of water left both men staring at one another before he lifted the Scot and supported him sideways until the bout of coughing subsided. "Guess a little less water," he mumbled.

Now that Beckett was a slightly more vertical, Dex decided to roll him onto his back and prop him up using the pack. When he felt no resistance, he soon had him sitting part way up. "Feel better?"

Carson pondered his surroundings. Spying the two-wheeled cart, his breath hitched in fear and his heart began to race. Memories of another cart and dead people pressing against him, not being able to breathe stole his breath once more. It was the rumble of the large man calling to him that pulled him from the horror of the flashback.

"Breathe. Take it easy." Ronon repeated until the frightened blue eyes eventually turned to stare at him and then warily flicker back to the cart. "I'm not taking you back. Just thought I'd use it to make your trip to the gate easier."

The gate. That sounded familiar. Closing his eyes, Carson searched the dark void inside his head for something and came up with water, lots of water. Confused, he blinked and discovered the man cutting another of the small fruit. When the dark eyes looked to him, the brows scrunched in question. 'Wa…' he tried to say but only puffed air.

Dex leaned closer. "What?"

The physician's eyes glanced away, tracking the ground while he mentally searched for more of the memory. A second look found the man still close at his side waiting. 'Water,' he mouthed completely. That earned him a grunt and a smile.

Taking one of the slivers of fruit, Dex fed the physician. "Water? Atlantis is a city on water. Do you remember Atlantis?" When one of the many little bugs tried to land on the plum, he brushed it away. "Water is also used to wash in. Any memories in your head about being clean?" When another bite was gone, he added as a second thought more to himself, "Be glad McKay is nowhere around."

Carson swallowed and then waited while more images ghosted through his memory. He didn't know 'McKay' but the name felt … felt like he should know it. Sighing heavily, he found the man watching him again. What was his name? When more plum was held out, he paused. 'Name,' he mouthed.

The curiosity returning in Beckett's expression made Dex roll his eyes. "'bout time," he grunted. "Knew you had to be in there somewhere." Slowly he continued, feeding bite after bite as he carefully explained who they both were and where they were from. "I'm here to take you back to Atlantis," he finished, tossing the plum pit casually into the weeds behind them. When he heard a rustle in the dry grass, he lifted a finger to his lips while slipping free the blaster at his side.

tbc..


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 4**

Footsteps drew precariously closer to their position, and judging by the combined voices there had to be at least three individuals. A twig snapped to their right. Beckett's eyes shot to Dex and found him sitting casually with one knee up, the other leg out straight, while he whittled on a piece of branch with the small knife. For all intent, he looked bored, and catching the physician's eye, he raised one brow before letting his eyes drift lazily shut. Taking his cue, Carson tried to calm his thundering heart and do the same.

"Looks to have come though here," a deep male voice said before a soldier stepped into the small clearing. The surprise on his face at finding the two men brought him to an immediate halt and he quickly pointed a weapon at Dex. "Don't move."

"Not goin' anywhere," the Satedean replied, stretching his back like a wary tiger.

Three more figures emerged from the trees and eyed up the situation. The soldier on point kept his gun level, demanding, "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Ronon slowly raised a hand so that he could scratch his beard. "On our way back from the market." Nodding to Beckett, he looked suddenly disgusted. "My servant ate something and felt sick. Got tired of listening to his whining and decided to stop."

Another of the group hesitantly stepped closer to the physician for a better look. Catching a whiff of sickness and unwashed body odor, he shook his head in disgust. "Gah!"

"Told you, he got sick."

The largest of the squad moved closer and drew his weapon, aiming it at Carson's head. "I'll take care of your problem right now."

Ronon watched a second as if deciding something and then shrugged, "You going to take his place?"

That caused the other three to laugh nervously, not quite sure what the stranger meant.

The one with the drawn gun didn't appreciate the humor and turned to the man seated on the ground. "Where are you from?" he growled.

"Why do you want to know?" The Satedean countered, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Strangers have been seen in the area. There was a raid on the garrison yesterday." Not getting any response, he leaned in closer, "You see anyone?"

"Told you already, went to market and are on our way back." Waving a hand towards Beckett, he let irritation settle over his bored features, "Haven't had time to stop and chat with strangers."

"Until now," the leader added. His scowl deepened and he stepped towards the silent figure lying on the ground half hidden beneath the long coat.

Ronon felt the hair rising on the back of his neck and knew things were about to get ugly. "Didn't go looking for you," he replied dryly, his eyes never leaving the other man's face while he slowly shifted to get better access to the blaster tucked beneath his thigh.

The apparent squad leader swiftly shifted to aim his weapon at the runner's head while taking another step towards Beckett. Using his foot, he flipped the coat back to reveal the battered physician whose frightened gaze was now staring up at him. "Where'd you find him?" he demanded, accented with a swift boot kick to the Scot's chest.

The man never got his answer or the chance to go for a second strike; instead he toppled over dead to the ground with a large knife protruding out of his chest. A second soldier fell with a blaster hole to his stomach. The third was able to get off a shot that raked Ronon's shoulder before he was effectively swept off his feet by the runner's strong legs. With no chance to break away, his head locked in between a muscular arm and elbow, his neck was snapped less than a second later.

That left the runt of the group, his weapon hanging by loose fingertips at his side, his eyes wide open in stunned disbelief at how fast the situation had changed…before he turned and bolted back through the trees.

Dex was on his feet instantly, shoving off the body that had sprawled across his legs before he barreled through the dried out orchard in pursuit. The little man was quick, but he was faster and one well aimed shot from his blaster took the remaining soldier down. He didn't take the time to confirm the kill; he needed to get back to Beckett.

oOo

Fixed pupils in dark brown eyes stared sightlessly at Carson and no matter how many times the physician tried to look at something else, his gaze was slowly drawn back to the dead man mere inches from where he lay. A small blue fly buzzed overhead and landed on one of the unseeing orbs causing Beckett to blink involuntarily and try once more to turn his head away. The effort proved futile as he remained motionless where the large man named Dex had left him. Feeling chilled even in the sunshine, he waited fearfully for someone to return and find him.

The warm jacket had been pulled off before the angry kick to his chest from the soldier which left him seeing blurry spots that eventually faded, and now for the first time in days he was able to get a good look at himself. Even in his confusion of what exactly had happened to him, he was able to realize that he was a mess. Filthy but unable to help himself, he was covered in an array of bandages over most of what he could see. It was difficult but he finally succeeded to lower his chin in the slightest to be able to see his hands and discovered them curled tight against his chest.

Trying to move one of his fingers in hopes of a response left him puzzled when the gnarled digits remained stiff and useless. When another small blue fly settled on his left wrist he watched it work its way towards a pinkish white burn that had broken open. The puff of air he used to make it fly away left him breathless as his actions were rewarded with more pain in his chest. The world around him grayed immediately.

Eyes clamped tight, he pulled more air in between his clenched teeth in hopes of remaining silent. He didn't want anyone to hear him, fearing there might be others in the surrounding areas searching for them. The sound of running in the distance followed by the discharge of a phase weapon forced his eyes back open.

He stared past the dead man and searched his limited field of vision in hopes of seeing that it was Dex who returned. Moments later he wasn't disappointed to see the burly figure reappear and move quickly to his side.

"You okay?" Ronon asked. Seeing the physician drop his gaze to the face lying on the ground so close to his own and then back up, he reached down and grabbed the soldier's arms, tugging him behind a nearby tree and then getting rid of the others. Finished, he dropped to his knees and gave the silent man a brief exam, checking for new damage. "Breathing all right?"

Carson blinked several times, trying to convey that he wasn't injured further and apparently succeeded when Dex nodded.

"Good." He gathered the few loose supplies lying on the ground and shoved them back in the pack. "We need to move before more come looking for that squad."

Before Carson could blink again, the other man moved away only to return with the wooden handcart. It was something a vendor would walk in front of and use to take produce to market. It was also large enough to hold a single person. Setting the handles on the ground, Dex looked around for something that he could use to make the ride more comfortable but with most of the vegetation dead in their immediate area, he came up empty. Instead he took the pack and propped it at the far end.

"Not much, but…" he let the words hang in the air as he stooped down and stared at the physician. "This will probably hurt."

Carson blinked slowly; he was willing to try anything if it meant leaving. Large hands reached underneath his shoulders and knees and with great care, he found himself being carried like a child and then placed on the wooden boards with his head resting on the pack. Glancing up at Dex he scowled in concern noticing that there was wetness in the large man's eyes.

The Satedean catching the look shook his head in disgust and wiped the back of his sleeve over his face. "Doc, hope you don't mind me saying, but I've come across three day dead wraith rotting in the sun that have smelled better than you." The dry humor in the expressive brown eyes actually brought the hint of a smile to the physician's face. "First things first, we find this lake I heard about and you are going for a swim…cart and all." Draping the long coat over the still form, he then settled between the handles, got a firm grip, and started moving.

**Part 5**

Small yellow flowers highlighted the rock strewn shoreline along the wide open expanse of sparkling water. It was the first time since they'd come to the godforsaken planet for reason long since forgotten that something didn't look dead. The surrounding trees were filled with lush green foliage and the near silent lapping water against smooth stones and ancient stumps gave the area a surreal quality. If one paused and closed their eyes, the ocean against the piers of Atlantis could easily come to mind. But the occasional smell of smoke that wafted through the air made the noticeable difference.

The trek to the waterfront left both men weary. Beckett's bruised ribs that had been mysteriously numb most of the day had been woken with the cruel kick and now ached non-stop, causing every breath to catch with each jostle and bump. Ronon's shoulder throbbed from the blaster wound and the weight of the cart handles pulled on sore muscles in his arms and down his back that reminded him of the fight a little more than twenty-four hours earlier.

Reaching their destination, he eased the wooden handles to the ground. Beckett might be silent but the runner didn't miss the tightly controlled expression on the doctor's face. "Let me find a spot to make camp and then I'll get you out," he said reassuringly with a knuckle rap to the side of the cart. The single blue eye that cracked open to look up at him slowly slid shut.

Ronon made short work of clearing a an area free of rocks and then tearing up armloads of long grass to create a bed of sorts. He'd have to wait on setting out a few supplies as the pack was still being used as a support. Finished, he walked to he waters edge and cupped the cool liquid to his mouth, swished a generous amount and then spat it back out. To him it tasted like water and on the second mouthful he swallowed, waited a moment, and not feeling any adverse reaction took another. His dark eyes scanning the water and shoreline, searching for predators or unwanted company, he stood up satisfied that this would be as good a time as any to get the doc cleaned up and into the clothes he swiped earlier. The last thing they needed was to run into another patrol who became suspicious of the tattered clothing.

Returning to the wagon he stopped to take his last breath of fresh air before leaning over and carefully placing his hand on Beckett's shoulder. "Doc, you awake?"

One eye popped open in surprise, filled with fear and anxiety that washed over the silent man's face before recognition slowly set in. His throat bobbed in an attempt to swallow as he stared back at Dex. He didn't remember falling asleep and seeing the man with the strange hair so close caused an involuntary shudder.

"Ready for that swim?" Ronon waited briefly before he slid his arms beneath Beckett's shoulders and knees again, lifting him with ease and carrying him to the water. "It's…cold," he warned, stepping slowly into the shallow depths. He could feel the radiating heat of fever and hoped the lake temperature might help with that as well.

Waist deep he waited again, watching Beckett for any sign of discomfort as the man's bare feet were now floating. When none came he went a bit deeper until the lake splashed over both of their chests. Grime and dirt now floated freely across the top of the water as he eased the dirty head of dark hair back, letting nature rinse off what it could. Feeling no reaction to the initial coldness, he grunted in mock disgust. "You ever breath a word of this to anyone back on Atlantis and I'll toss you off a pier."

Carson opened his eyes to see if the threat was real. Finding a raised brow and grin aimed at him instead, he let them close and enjoyed the odd tingling sensation of floating. The aches and pains of earlier eased, the headache that had settled behind his eyes diminished to being bearable, and oddly enough he felt safe for the first time that he could remember.

And that was part of his problem, he didn't remember much. Dex had spoken of his life as a physician on Atlantis, but none of that was familiar. None of the names mentioned meant anything to him. Whenever he tried to think back, all he could recall was darkness, the smell of death, and being alone. But then again, that wasn't quite right. For somewhere tucked away he could hear another telling him to hang on, but he could never catch the fleeting sound or put a face to the voice. Looking back at the gentle giant that held him he discovered the dark brown eyes watching him closely.

"You doing okay?"

Instead of trying to answer, he concentrated on the face, searching for a memory of his rescuer. Again the other voice ghosted across the back of his mind and he closed his eyes in an attempt to catch it without success.

Dex watched Beckett closely, wondering what was going on inside that muddled brain. He could tell the man was thinking and decided to leave him be. With much of the grime rinsed off it was time to get dry and think of what to eat. Two plums weren't enough to keep any man healthy and they needed to get ready for their trek in the dark back to the gate. Depositing the now dripping, but less offensive man on the bed of grass, he reached for his overstuffed pack and dumped the contents on the ground.

His small knife made quick work of the remaining uniform and then he used one of the soft shirts that he'd lifted from the village to wipe off any remaining dirt and water. With care he tended as many wounds as possible before he had the smaller man dressed in clean clothes and resembling any of the individuals he'd seen at the market. By the time he finished, the blue eyes were intently watching him again while he took off his own shirt so that he could patch up his shoulder before tugging on dry clothing.

"Can't believe I'm actually gonna say this, but you not talking isn't right," he muttered under his breath. "Usually you and McKay are going on about one thing or another and you two rarely shut up. I have no idea how Sheppard puts up with both of you."

Hearing Sheppard's name, Carson frowned as the voice telling him to hang on once more skimmed across his memory.

Dex didn't miss the look and leaned closer. "Remember something?"

Catching the memory was impossible and he sighed in disappointment before meeting the gaze staring intently at him. The man must have understood because he gave him a reassuring pat to the arm before turning back to whatever it was he'd been doing.

oOo

By the time they'd finished eating the bread that Dex had purchased and an MRE, Carson was exhausted. A single tap to the cheek made him jerk and he found the man named Dex with his hand held out close to his mouth.

"You need to take these," he said revealing two small white pills. "The trip to the gate isn't going to be easy so you need to get these in you now."

Obediently swallowing the medication, he washed them down with cool water from the canteen.

"Figure it will be getting dark in an hour," Dex said while draping his long coat once more over Beckett. "I say we rest and then head out. Sound good to you?" Watching the doctor quickly nod off, he grunted and leaned against a nearby rock. "Thought so," he said.

With his blaster gripped firm he let himself drift into a light sleep for the first time since finding Beckett. Hopefully, in a few hours they'd be home.

**Part 6**

Carson woke to a burning sensation radiating throughout his body that ran from his back, down his legs to his toes, and within his curled arms to his fingertips. What had been numb earlier, now stole his breath away. Wanting nothing more than to move, to shake off the feeling, he continued to lay unmoving on the bed of grass that the large man named Dex had made for him.

His breath picked up sharply, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest as glimpses of ghostly images flickered across his mind leaving him confused. People were shouting, others crying, dark figures in the shadows laughing at him then leaving him to lie on a filthy floor, and lifeless eyes watching him. In the midst of it all, there was the voice telling him to hang on. Squeezing his eyes tight, he searched through the clutter of horror, of mutilated bodies and blood to find a face that matched the continual promise of rescue, only to become more agitated when nothing became any clearer.

Wretched, miserable, and exhausted, a tear threatened to slide free from his closed lids; he didn't even have the strength to wipe it away. But, he did have he ability to blink rapidly, forcing the betraying sign of emotion back before it was seen.

With his eyes now open, he stared up into the evening sky, discovering a few early stars twinkling deceptively high above in the heavens. The cool night wind swayed nearby trees to rustle n the darkness, and the water on the shoreline slapped against stone. Focusing on the latter, he tried to control his breathing, to get his mind on something other than his discomfort, and to not wake the sleeping man beside him.

Shifting his gaze sideways from his slightly propped position, he was able to see large feet crossed at the ankles beside him but nothing more. Without realizing , he sighed loudly and the feet instantly moved.

"Doc?" The deep voice rumbled at his side, then the strange hair and bearded face appeared leaning over him. Dark eyes focused intently on his own and Carson opened his mouth to answer, but remained speechless.

Dex took it in stride, raising his arms above his head in a lengthy stretch before pulling himself to his feet. "Time for us to head out," he said quietly, disappearing from view, then to return almost immediately. His face was damp, his hair now tied back out of the way, he leaned over and used a wet piece of cloth to wipe off Carson's face.

In return, the physician briefly closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation against his skin before looking back up to meet the inquisitive gaze.

"Need anything? Food? Water?"

Honestly, Carson wasn't hungry, but his useless body demanded something to drink. Frowning slightly, then opening his mouth, he accepted the canteen placed against his lips as Dex seemed to understand and carefully poured water in his mouth. His thirst sated, he blinked several times to signal that he was finished.

Dex sat back on his haunches, screwing the canteen lid on tight while studying Carson. "Well be to the gate in a few hours, be back on Atlantis in time for breakfast." The blue eyes watching him blinked slowly, an unsure smile lifting, and he grinned back. "Don't worry, I'll save you something." With that, he was on his feet, disappearing into the darkness, only to reappear moments later with the cart.

Slipping his arm beneath Carson's neck and back, the other under his knees, he lifted the man with ease, then settled him on a bed of soft grass, with the pack beneath the doctor's head. He didn't miss the grimace and sharp intake of breath at the movement. "Sorry," he mumbled, draping his coat over the still man.

Carson tried to somehow communicate that it was okay. The burning pain settled once more, leaving him uncomfortable but still bearable. Opening his mouth, he then closed it before successfully quirking part of his brow.

For the first time since they'd been together, Dex laughed out loud.

**Part 7**

It had taken longer than Dex wanted to make it back to the edge of the open field that contained the gate. Avoiding the war torn roads and roaming patrols, he'd dragged the cart over long forgotten paths, through empty torn up pastures, and around the edge of a razed forest. Massive splintered trunks protruded high into the darkness, but the ground had been picked clean of any usable firewood that now burned in scattered fires across the clearing. Muted voices and smoke drifted towards their hiding spot as he contemplated how to make their escape.

He needed to move in closer for a better view. Knowing he'd have to leave Beckett, he sidled back from the edge of the clearing to the cart and leaned inside to find pain-filled eyes staring up into the night sky.

"Beckett," he whispered and the gaze instantly shifted towards his own. "Got to make a way to get us out of here. You stay put."

Fear briefly flickered over the doctor's face, memories of the last time he'd been left alone causing him to swallow uncertainly, before a hand settled on the top of his head.

"I'll be right back," the large man reassured. When the eyes met his again, he nodded while taking some of the supplies from the cart and stuffing them in several pockets, then checking his blaster. Finished, he paused for one final examination on his charge. Several times on the way back from the lake he'd stopped to check on Carson, finding the man almost totally out of it or eventually lapsed into unconsciousness. The tight facial lines of pain had grown steadily deeper over the day and now ragged breathing highlighted what slight chest movement the doctor had. Dex might not know a lot about medicine, but he knew that if he didn't get Carson back soon, that the doctor wasn't going to make it.

For his part, Carson tried his best to hide his discomfort from his rescuer. Blinking slowly, he allowed his eyes to slide shut, giving Dex the signal to leave. The hand on his head stayed briefly before disappearing, then he knew he was alone.

oOo

Dex took out the first guard on the opposite side of the field with a quick snap to the unsuspecting man's neck. Dropping the body to the ground, he dragged it back beneath the shelter of a nearby tree before searching through uniform pockets, helping himself to a small flask and a handful of cartridges, then he faded back into the night.

Catching a second guard unaware who was relieving himself away from camp, he too fell quickly at the runner's deft hand. The dead soldier's weapon and uniform jacket were hastily removed, his body left where it fell for the night scavengers to find, before Dex tugged the coat over his own broad shoulders.

Working his way to the far end of the field, away from Beckett, his dark eyes scanned the broken tree line, using only the light from the campfires to help him find what he needed. Sitting in wait like a spider for a fly, his eyes never left a single officer that patrolled the edge of the field. When the man came within meters of Dex's position, he tossed a stone at the individual, pegging him squarely in the back.

The man spun abruptly about, his weapon raised as he hesitantly stepped away from the protective light of the campfire into the darkness. The swift, rock-hard punch to his jaw that came out of nowhere left him sagging silently to the ground.

Dex made quick work of tying the man standing up to a nearby tree. He then used his teeth to remove casing from several cartridges and dump the contents on the ground by the officer's feet. With his blaster in the other, he reached out and tapped the flask in his other against the cheek of the man slowly regaining consciousness.

When his captive's surprised eyes met his own, the man getting ready to yell, Dex merely smiled and shook his head 'no' while placing his gun against the man's chest. He used his other hand to dump the contents of the flask over his prisoner and the rest on the ammunition at his feet. He then flicked a matchstick with his thumb, igniting the small flame.

The man's eyes grew wide in fear, his gaze locked on the small fire as it was dropped to the ground. Seconds later, the tiny blaze attacked the alcohol and shot up the tree as the officer began to scream for help.

Men came running from various positions to see what was happening. Stopping only when the ground crackled and snapped at the gunpowder scattered about them burned, none noticed the lone figure vanish back into the darkness.

He in turn ran flat out, stripping off the coat as he raced through the trees. Finding Beckett where he'd left him, he didn't have time to be careful and quickly ripped off the long coat blanket, draping the uniform jacket over the doctor instead. He then grabbed the pack over his shoulder, picked up the semi-conscious, terrified physician, and raced for the gate.

Men were running up and down the field around them. One stopped when he saw the injured figure in an officer's coat. "Sir?" he shouted over all the noise erupting around them, the other man's screams still loud from the far end of the field.

"Saboteur," the runner growled. "They need your help." He didn't say more as he continued on towards the gate. By the time he'd made it to the DHD, only three men remained and he dropped two with the gun he held beneath Beckett. Punching in the address, he watched the lights flash around the ring before the telltale 'whoosh' burst brilliantly in the darkness.

The third man garnered his courage and made to intercept the pair before they could cross the threshold. With his gun in hand, he pointed it at Carson's head while threatening to pull back the trigger. "Step away," he demanded with a sneer.

With his hands full, Dex did the only thing he could think of. His booted foot shot out and connected with the soldier's groin, causing the man to instantly fall to his knees in pain, gasping raggedly for air.

Their path now clear, he leaped into the shimmering vortex, leaving the sounds of gunfire and screams behind them, moments later to emerge on the gateroom floor. Surrounded by P-90s leveled in his direction, Dex dropped to his knees when his legs gave out, refusing to hold him up.

Footsteps and voices surrounded him, someone lifted Carson from his arms, and then the room went dark.

Tbc…


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 8**

Voices shouting for medics, people moving quickly in and out of his field of vision, and the unfamiliar face that loomed above his own caused Carson's heart rate to increase dramatically. Not able to see the strange hair and bearded face of the only person he knew, he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, hoping that wherever it was that Dex had brought him, that it would not be back to the hellhole of his memories.

"Carson?" a woman said softly. Gentle hands held either side of his face, keeping his head and neck still. Refusing to look at her, he waited for whatever it was that they were going to do to him.

"Carson, can you open your eyes?" the woman spoke again, her voice urging him to at least glance her way. She didn't sound threatening and Dex had told him that they were going home. Maybe they had made it. But where was the large man?

He listened to the continuing noises and heard someone mention gunshot wounds. Another spoke rapidly, something about losing too much blood. The female voice that had called for him to look at her was now speaking to someone else, asking about Ronon. Didn't Dex say his name was Ronon?

Peeling heavy lids back, he cautiously shifted his gaze off to the side, deliberately avoiding the face that still hovered above his own. Several figures were gathered in a tight group and when one stepped away to retrieve an item before rushing back, he noticed the odd thick hair splayed across the nearby small bed on wheels. The giant lie deathly still on his side with odd, yet strangely familiar, bags attached to his arms.

Needing to know what happened to his rescuer; he tried to calm his racing heart and chanced a glance to look at the person who was still holding him. It was a man, not nearly as big as Dex, dressed in some sort of uniform.

When the stranger realized that he was being watched, a smile blossomed across his face. "Hey, Doc. How are you doing?"

Carson frowned, his brows drawing together in confusion. Apparently the man knew him. Opening his mouth, he wanted desperately to ask a question but still the words wouldn't come.

The man seemed to understand. "Just a little longer, okay? Dr. Biro wants to get Ronon stable and shipped off to the OR before she can come over and see what's got you so quiet."

The group around Dex suddenly appeared startled and all turned to look in their direction, their focus instantly falling on Carson.

"Major Lorne," the soft spoken woman from minutes before urgently called over, "hold Dr. Beckett completely still using spinal precautions."

The group surrounding the gurney divided, one team pushing the injured rescuer from the room while the remaining members quickly made their way back to the two men still on the floor.

A second woman dropped to her knees beside them, her inquisitive gaze piercing Carson's. "Dr. Beckett, Carson," she said, cautiously reaching out to take his pulse at the side of his neck, deliberately avoiding his wounded hands, "my name is Dr. Biro."

His own gaze beginning to slip, he tried to focus on her as she spoke but found it increasingly difficult. The burning had returned with a vengeance and the ache behind his eyes that now reached the back of his skull could no longer be ignored.

"Carson, look at me," Biro called to him. Blinking her back into focus, he watched her face contort with emotion until she settled on an encouraging smile. "Ronon will be fine. He was wounded coming through the gate but you should be able to see him again in a few hours. He was able to tell me a little about your condition though, before they took him to the infirmary."

This time there was no stopping his heavy lids as he listened to her, and shutting out all the strange faces and bright lights helped ease his headache minutely. But the lady doctor was persistent and continued to call his name until he relented and cracked one eye to glance up at her.

"I know it's hard Carson, but I need you to stay awake a little longer and answer some questions for me. Blink once for 'yes' if you can. Are you in any pain?"

He swallowed slowly, trying to force moisture to his dry throat. The burning now spread through to his fingertips and he ached to flex his palms. Realizing that she was still waiting, he closed his eye before prying it back open. Hopefully she didn't have too many more questions because it took all he had to answer that even once.

She leaned in closer, her face now inches from his own. "Can you move your arms or legs?"

For the first time he stared directly into her eyes, trying to communicate what was wrong, and was taken aback to see sorrow and then compassion flood her expression.

"That's okay," she said soothingly, her hand reaching to stroke the whispy bangs off his forehead. She then glanced to those around her, "Bring the back board in closer. Dr. Weir can you hand me that collar by your knee?" A strange object appeared in his peripheral vision and he lazily watched her take it, then hold it in front of his face. "Carson, we need to move you to the infirmary, but before we can do that, I need to make sure that we don't hurt you any more than you already are. I'm going to start with a neck brace, okay?"

More unfamiliar faces peered closer into his limited visual range and he began to gasp for air, his heart rate picking up again as images of others pressing against him surfaced darkly like haunting specters.

Dr. Biro noticed his reaction immediately and called for the others to stand back and give them some room. "Carson, it's okay. Right now it's just you, me, and Major Lorne."

He'd forgotten about the major still holding him on the floor. Using his final taps of energy, he glanced to the concerned face above him and met the man's gaze before he gave in to the urge of darkness pulling him to oblivion. He never heard the odd walk-clump sound of another individual hurrying to the gateroom, or the startled disbelieving gasp of the man recognizing his missing friend now lying helplessly on the floor.

**Part 9**

"Dr. McKay, you shouldn't be out of bed," Biro scolded lightly over her shoulder while supervising the backboard straps, her attention entirely centered on her newest patient.

"I heard… they said…" the scientist tried to say, watching in a shocked stupor while Carson was lifted via the board to the waiting gurney. "Is he, is he paralyzed?" he sputtered, clumsily making his way to follow the team with his cane thumping loudly on every other step.

Elizabeth stepped up to his side, taking him by the free arm and offering support. "Ronon was able to tell us that Carson never moved." Watching Rodney's horrified expression, she hesitated before telling him the rest. "He can't seem to speak, either."

"Oh my god, what did they do to him?" he demanded, stumbling slightly and would have almost fallen if it hadn't been for her hand under his arm.

Taking a hard look at her chief scientist, she recognized the deep lines of worry etched across his face, the pain in his slumped shoulders due to strained back muscles from carrying Teyla while running to the gate, and the sleepless hours of sitting at Sheppard's bedside, worrying about what his friend's had gone through. His own leg injury from evading the second squad forgotten, he was being eaten by guilt at having left the pair behind in the first place.

"Rodney," she said, steering him back to his rumpled bed in the infirmary, away from the curtain that now separated the new patients from the old, "it's the middle of the night, you need to rest."

He hobbled up onto the mattress, surprised to find Lorne on his opposite side giving him a boost. "Did Ronon say anything else?"

The major shook his head 'no'. "He sort of faded in and out, didn't want to leave Dr. Beckett, but I guess the blood loss finally wiped him out."

"Blood loss?" Panic set back in and Rodney almost made it off the bed before Elizabeth and the young officer grabbed him by an arm on either side, holding him in place. "Where is he? What happened to Ronon?"

Elizabeth pulled the blankets up, settling them across Rodney's chest, then resting her hand on his arm. "He was shot while carrying Carson through the gate."

The Canadian's blue eyes actually went wider as he stared at her in disbelief, before his entire demeanor shifted to one of irritation. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't picked 4092 this wouldn't have happened. They…" he paused, waving the hand he'd plucked free from Lorne towards the occupied beds, "they wouldn't be here. He, he…. Carson hates going through the gate. I told him he was being a big baby." His hand went to his head, shoving short hairs to stand up straight in his increasing agitation.

"Rodney, you need to calm down. Getting upset isn't going to help anyone and you'll only make yourself sick," Elizabeth said firmly. Watching a nurse advance in their direction, she recognized the small white paper cup that held medication and a glass of water.

"Dr. McKay," the petite figure spoke with a smile, stepping up to his bedside near Dr. Weir, "Dr. Biro said it was time for your pain medication." She patiently waited while he tipped the cup back and then drank the water. Taking the glass and putting it on a side table, she then lowered the bed to a more comfortable level for sleeping. "Just relax and give it time to take effect."

"I don't want…" he started but she merely patted his arm and then lifted his wrist to take his pulse. Next she took a regular thermometer and tucked it under his tongue before he could protest. She continued different ministrations until his eyes began to dip suspiciously.

"I need to check on Sheppard," he mumbled sleepily.

"When you wake up," she replied quietly, flicking off the light above his bed. After waiting a minute more, she turned to the head of Atlantis and sighed, "He'll be out for the rest of the night. I suggest you also get some rest, Dr. Weir. There's really nothing more for you to do here."

Elizabeth glanced around the dimly lit portion of the infirmary, her firm countenance beginning to show the immense strain that she'd been under for the past few days. "I'll stay a little longer," she eventually said after a brief check on each of her people. The empty chair nestled between McKay and Sheppard's bed beckoned to her and she dropped in the seat, her face coming to rest in her hands.

"Ma'am?" Lorne's quiet query broke through her thoughts and she found him standing patiently in front of her. "Major?"

He nodded to the closed off portion of the room. "Appears it's going to be another long night. Can I get you anything? Coffee?"

They'd been through this routine the night before while waiting for the physician to report on Colonel Sheppard. But then there had only been Teyla and Rodney on this side, the other two still unaccounted for. Grateful to have all her people back, she took a deep breath then blew it out slowly. "Coffee would be good."

**Part 10**

The day on Atlantis was half over before one of the five stirred restlessly, bringing Elizabeth to her feet to stand at his bedside. Cool damp cloth in her hand, she pressed it to his heated brow. "Shhh, John," she soothed, feeling the fever radiate through the fabric beneath her fingertips.

He didn't appear to hear her, his head tipping to the side to get away from her touch. "Cars'n," he whispered painfully, never fully coming awake.

"He's here. He's safe," she whispered but his agitation only grew worse, his bandaged arms pushing against her.

"Took 'im." The harsh cry caught the attention of Lorne who had been dozing lightly in another chair beside Teyla. Looking to Weir, he recognized her glance as she nodded to the doctor's office in the rear. A moment later he was gone in search of help.

Elizabeth soaked the rag once more then placed it back on his heated forehead. "He's safe. Carson's here, Ronon brought him back," she continued to say over and over, wiping away the sweat that worked its way into his hairline. "He's sleeping, John." But no matter what she said, he remained trapped in his nightmare, tossing his head to the other side.

"Hang on," his plaintive cry was filled with anguish. "Cars'n, help's on the way."

Lorne and a different nurse quickly appeared along with dark physician that Sheppard could never remember. Taking a liberty that he would never dream of in any other circumstance, the major placed his hand on his superior's shoulder and steered her out of the way. They stood silently side-by-side as the medical team worked before them, eventually relaxing in the slightest when Sheppard stopped fighting due to the medication added to one of his IVs.

The doctor did a brief exam, checking several bandages while the nurse rattled off various numbers. Satisfied with what he'd found, he finally looked up to meet Elizabeth's worried gaze.

"How are they…all of them?" she asked quietly.

He frowned, his lips pressed into a tight line as he glanced over the room. "Perhaps we should speak in the office," he said quietly and held out his arm to direct her towards the back.

She paused only a moment, looking to Lorne, "You will stay out here?"

"Yes, ma'am."

With a nod, she walked past, her hand touching the foot of each bed as she passed, before disappearing inside Carson's small office.

oOo

On the other side of the room, pale blue eyes blinked sleepily several times before coming to focus on the ceiling above him. He'd heard the voice again telling him to 'hold on'. Certain that it sounded close, Carson waited to hear more before drifting back to sleep.

Tbc…


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I apologize for the delay in posting this part. RL has a firm hold and won't give me much free time to type. Thank you for all of the kind notes. They are greatly appreciated.

**Part 11**

Propped on his side with several pillows strategically placed behind his back and another underneath his bent left knee, Ronon first became aware of the sound of footsteps and soft female voices as they invaded the pain free fog that had settled inside his head and body. Instantly synapses fired, his consciousness forcing the lethargy to dissipate in a way that left Beckett at times shaking his head in wonder at how the Runner could break free from an anesthetic so easily. Forcing himself to lie still, he listened to their conversation, knowing that the truth might be kept from him if they were alerted to his current state of wakefulness.

"Dr. Biro, I have the labs back on Specialist Dex and Dr. Beckett. Also, the cultures for Colonel Sheppard should be ready in the next half hour." The woman's voice was unfamiliar but he suspected it to be from one of the many techs or nurses that made up the med team. The following reply he knew instantly as the physician being addressed.

She sighed heavily, the worried tap of her fingertip on what he imagined to be a datapad indicated her uneasiness at what she was viewing. "It appears I was right, the infection is resistant to the usual antibiotic cocktail. We're going to have to get creative to knock out this bug that he and the colonel seemed to have picked up in that prison. Continue with the Corticosteroids, I want an updated CT and MRI, and page Dr. Heightmeyer for me."

"Yes, doctor." A single set of footsteps walked away and he waited to hear the second leave. When they remained, and he could sense her presence close to his proximity, he opened his eyes to find the physician staring expectantly back at him.

"Never figured you to be one to play possum," Biro said, taking a step closer to his bedside. Not waiting for his answer, she read the surrounding monitors before nodding in satisfaction and unhooking several leads from his chest. Next she stepped out of his line of sight, her hands touching his back as she examined the wounds beneath the bandages.

With her no longer blocking his view, this gave the runner the opportunity to study the silent figure on the bed beside him. Carson looked pale and bruised, his eyes were closed in sleep, and his chest moved in a steady rhythm. His bandaged hands lay on pillows at his side. "How is he?" Dex rumbled.

The movement on the back of his thigh paused briefly before continuing. "Not good. We're trying to get the infection under control, he has a broken foot, and his hands took some work to debride the burned skin on his fingers and palms. Not to mention broken bones in his wrists, a few cracked ribs, dislocations, and the trauma from the accumulative beatings he sustained."

"What about moving?"

Biro stepped back around, her face filled with worry as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully with her right hand before dropping it inside a deep lab coat pocket. "There's bruising and swelling to the tissue around his spine. All the scans have come back clean when we've looked for breaks, tears, leaking fluids…." Blowing out a slow breath, she turned to face Ronon, "Time and rest are what he needs most right now."

When he remained quiet, she pulled over a nearby stool so that she was close to eye level without blocking his view. "What can you tell me about his condition? How was he on the planet?"

Ronon's features hardened, anger flared across his face. "I found him in a field. He'd been dumped in a pit filled with bodies, climbed out on is own, and escaped."

She glanced back to her superior, her complexion paled at the thought of what horrors he must have faced. "If he was able to move then, perhaps he aggravated a prior injury from the prison. Did you see him move? Hear him speak?"

"No."

"Did he seem aware of his surroundings?"

Ronon shook his head 'no'. "Didn't know who I was."

"Is there anything you can tell me?"

He blinked, his gaze back on the now clean, dark-haired physician on the bed across from him. "He ate a little, took some water. Slept a lot. Didn't seem to want me to leave his sight."

"Did he appear to be in any pain?"

"When I found him in the morning, he didn't. A squad came upon our location in the afternoon and one of the members kicked him in the chest. After that he didn't look so well."

She was shocked at his words. "Someone kicked him in the chest when he was already clearly injured?"

"Didn't do it again." Ronon said, his fierce gaze locking on to hers .

"Good," she said under her breath, surprised at her own feelings of justice being met via Dex.

"I got him to the lake, cleaned him up. He ate a little more and then slept again. Once it was dark I put him in the wagon and made our way back to the gate."

"Judging by the fresh wounds to your back and leg when you came through the gate, along with the one that appears to be slightly older on your shoulder, I find it hard to beleive that it was that simple."

He shifted and it appeared that he was about to get up. Instantly hopping off the stool, she pressed a firm hand against his shoulder to keep him still. "I got rid of all the extras because I know they make you crazy, but until I say so, you are to stay in that bed. Do I make myself clear? I'll let you know the minute he starts to show signs of waking up."

When he merely glared at her, his dark eyes challenging then reluctantly acquiesing, she smiled in triumph. She made to go back to check on the rest of her patients when his deep voice stopped her.

"How are the others? Sheppard looked sick at the prison."

Biro chewed the inside of her cheek a moment before answering. "The infection in his arms is spreading. Being beaten half to death and then left lying in that cess pool for three days didn't help. Right now we are fighting it with all we have. Teyla sustained a severe concussion and is being monitored closely. She has yet to wake up but I believe later on today we might get a response from her. And as for Dr. McKay, he pulled some back muscles carrying her to the gate, and from what little I was able to get out of him, had an encounter with a member of the second squad before making his way back through to Atlantis. The scorch on his calf resembles the one on your shoulder but he denies that he was shot. And in typical fashion, has taken the blame for the entire failed mission upon himself and refuses to rest."

She stepped closer to the bed, pulling a blanket high over his bare shoulder and tucking it loosely behind him. "I know you don't want to hear it, but I'm going to tell you anyways. You've been shot and need to rest." Seeing a protest form, she held up her finger and waved it back and forth to stop him. "Uh-uh, right now you do as I say and I will let you up later to sit with whoever wakes up first. Deal?"

He knew she was right for he could feel sleep beckoning even though he tried to deny it. With the rest of the team still sleeping, he raised one brow at the lady physician and gave in. "Deal," he grumbled, closing his eyes. Her hesitant pat to his shoulder took him by surprise but he refused to show it. Soon his soft snores mixed with those around him.

**Part 12**

Half an hour later, Kate Heightmeyer enetered the infirmary, casiting a glance over the array of occupied beds before spying Dr. Biro sitting back at Carson's desk. The physician's head was propped in her palm, she appeared to be either studying a datapad or be half asleep. Kate popped her head in the doorway. "You paged me?" she asked, causing the physician to jump.

The other woman nodded and waved the psychiatrist in to take up an empty chair. "I spoke with Ronon earlier and was able to get a little more information in regards to Carson's condition."

Kate pulled her chair closer to the desk, placed her elbows on the smooth surface, and leaned forward.

oOo

On the other side of the room, outside the small office, dark dreams surfaced for two of the sleeping individuals. For one, it was bodies pressing so tightly that his breath was being stolen, for the other, the smell of putrid decay and filth causing him to gag. Various monitors began to emit warnings, nurses scrambled, and two more team members sleepily rolled off their beds to take up postioions by the one closest to their own.

Rodney propped himself against Sheppard's bed, holding an emisis basin in one hand and trying to assist the retching colonel with his other. "I could use a little help here," he called out to no one in particular. When a nurse slipped in past him to help support Sheppard, he gratefully shifted to take the weight off his sore leg.

"What's wrong with him?" the scientist demanded once the colonel stopped gagging and sank wearliy back against his pillow. Watching the nurse wipe off the fevered face and brow, he noticed how Sheppard turned toward the cool cloth. "Is he even awake?"

"He's semi-conscious," the nurse explained, wringing out the cloth in the basin at the bedside before draping it back across the sweaty brow. Seeing the concerend look on McKay's face, she smiled softly. "With all that he's been through, it's hard on his system to fight the infection. Right now he could probably stand to hear a familiar voice." Taking the scientist's hand, she pressed it against the damp cloth, waiting for him to relax slightly before she let go. "I need to check on Dr. Beckett. Can you keep Colonel Sheppard cool and talk to him?"

His discomfort shifted to irritation. "Of course I can. What kind of idiot do you think I am? Do you want me to change his bedpan, next?"

"Not right now. But if you're available later," she started, then gave him a reassuring pat to the arm before following Dr. Biro across the room to assist Ronon, leaving him awkwardly holding the cloth.

"So," he began then paused, focusing on the face pressed back into the pillow, before shooting a concerned glance over to Carson's bedside. Too many people stood around the bed and he couldn't see what was going on. "Looks as though Carson is stealing all your attention. Why don't you wake up and give him a run for his money?"

He didn't get any response and the rag felt warm beneath his fingertips so he peeled it off to dip slightly in the cool water before placing it back over Sheppard's brow. "You do know that that lumbering Neanderthal brought him back last night, don't you?" Rodney paused a second to glance again to the group on the far end of the room, then turned back with a heavy sigh. "He doesn't look too good. I overheard one of the nurses last night say that he can't move, doesn't even know who he is."

The forehead beneath his hand shifted slightly and he peered closer, then gave Sheppard's shoulder a small shake. "You awake?"

"Cars'n."

The word was barely a whisper but that was all the scientist needed. "He's here, safe and sound, plugged into half of Atlantis by the looks of it."

The bandaged arms shifted restlessly on top of the blanket, fingers scrabbling to grip some of the fabric, but Sheppard didn't open his eyes. "How is he?" he rasped.

Rodney frowned. "I just told you, he's pretty much monopolized the medical staff but the nurse told me he was going to be fine."

That made Sheppard frown, his eyes cracking just the slightest to look up and find the scientist worridly watching him. "You're…lying. I …" He paused trying to find moisture to wet his dry throat. McKay must have noticed because the rim of a cup touched his lips. After a few painful swallows, he nodded that he was finished. "I heard the nurse," he whispered.

"That's right…you heard the nurse. Did Biro or one of the other bone shaking quacks around here come and talk to you? No. So before you get yourself all worked up over some second hand bit of news, why don't you just lie there and wait until I can find out the truth."

"McKay…" He knew he wasn't going to be awake much longer and the light really hurt his eyes. Closing them wasn't an option though so he scowled at the rumpled figure standing beside him.

"Sheppard, would you just shut up and listen to me for once." Rodney didn't miss the raised brow arched in surprise. "I'll keep an eye on Carson, and Teyla, and Ronon. Anything happens, I'll let you know."

"What 'bout you?" Okay, now his eyes were no longer listening to him and closed on their own. The cloth was taken and then placed back on his forehead.

"I'm fine."

"Liar."

Rodney's hand automatically went to his back. "Shut up. I pulled a muscle while carrying a beautiful woman. It's been awhile and I'm not as young as I used to be."

Sleep was closing in fast on Sheppard. Hot and achy, he gave up holding it at bay."Not what … I heard the nurse say."

"Again, second hand news. You really need to stop eavesdropping, colonel." All he got in reply was some sort of strange mumble. Rodney shifted his weight, testing his injured leg. The hot twinge up the muscle made him hiss, but with his teeth clamped tight, the sound was little more than a sigh. One last check on the sleeping man, then he hobbled over to the other end of the room. Maybe Dex needed his help.

oOo

Carson couldn't catch his breath, the bodies were pressing tight against him, their faces staring with unseeing eyes into his own. With the fire radiating throughout his hands and legs, the terrifying faces and dreams haunting his mind, he did the only thing left in his power to control… he followed the deep rumbling voice that told him to wake up. His eyes snapped open to reveal the bearded man with strange hair. Dex, his mind informed him.

"You need to calm down," Ronon growled quietly. "Breathe." And the physician obeyed. "You're safe, back on Atlantis." The whining machine at the side of the bed continued to shrill, and having seen the med staff shut it off during some of his prior visits, the runner without any second thought, flipped the power switch, silencing the annoying noise. "Better?"

Carson frowned. His eyes traced wearily over the various pieces of aparatus in his limited field of vision then back to the man at his side. Somehow he knew that turning the noise off wasn't the right thing to do. The sound of people suddenly moving closeby startled him and he looked to find the face of a worried woman on his other side, and then back to Dex.

"What happened?" she asked Dex before she looked down at the man staring between them. A smile spread across her face. "Carson, I'm Dr. Carol Biro. Do you know where you are?"

He blinked, looking to Dex, and then back to her. Other than the man at his side, nothing looked familiar.

She seemed to understand. "That's okay. You've gone through quite an ordeal and if it wasn't for Ronon here," she paused to look at the tall man who should really be in bed, and then sighed. "All I can say is thank god he was able to find you and get you back home to us." When he looked away from her, she reached out and touched the side of his face, carful of the myriad of cuts and bruises. "Carson, I need you to look at me and answer some questions if you can."

Dex nodded in her direction and he shifted his gaze back.

"Are you in pain?"

He blinked slowly.

"Is it a general, all-over sort of burning pain?"

He blinked again and she nodded at his answer.

"The tissue around your spine is badly bruised and swollen, but all tests have come back clean. With plenty of rest, your prognosis looks promising." When his eyes closed at the news, she glanced to Ronon. "Did you tell about his team mates?"

For some reason, that caught Carson's attention and he looked back to the bearded man expectantly.

"They're all here," he said, with a glance over his shoulder. "McKay is the only one up, Sheppard and Teyla are still resting." Seeing Rodney standing beside the colonel, having some sort of discussion, he raised a brow and grinned. "Looks like McKay is already filling Sheppard in."

Carson stared at the ceiling, hating that he couldn't look around to see who else was in the room beside himself. When the lady doctor touched his cheek again, he looked over expectantly, only to discover her holding a shiney object. She shifted it slightly and he was surprised to see the reflection of two men further down the room.

"McKay is standing, Sheppard's on the bed," Dex said.

He couldn't see the man on the bed very well until the one named McKay moved. Then, getting his first real glimpse of Sheppard, he stared and then clenched his eyes shut tight as the voice in his head whispered to 'hold on'.

"Doc?"

"Carson?"

The worry in both of their voices forced him to look back up. The mirror was still in place and he glanced across the room for a second look. There was only the man in the bed this time, the other was gone. Studying what little he could see of the sleeping man's face that was turned in his direction… 'Sheppard' he reminded himself…he noticed the swollen eyes, bandages, and the cloth across his head. 'Just a little longer, doc,' the voice whispered again.

He stared harder at Sheppard, trying to capture the face that went with the voice. Fleeting images of a dark room, people crying, a terrible smell, and a man with dark hair. More memories surfaced faster now: a rope and a chair, blood, so much blood, a man begging to be spared. Gun fire. Bodies. It all swirled in a nauseating crescendo. He couldn't breathe.

"Carson, you need to calm down," Biro insturcted, her hand touching his face, trying to pull him from his nightmare.

Dex leaned in close, trying to catch the injured physician's attention to no avail. This time Beckett was trapped and didn't seem to be able to surface. The clunck of Rodney stepping up beside the bed was missed by all as Biro injected something to calm Carson into his IV.

They stood silently watching the drug take effect.

Before he faded into the welcoming darkness, Carson pried open his eyes one more time to see the faces around him. It was the one named McKay that was leaning close to him this time.

"Hold on, Carson. Sheppard needs you," the man whispered before everything went dark.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: A bit shorter than I prefer but to add it to the next chapter would have been too long. Hopefully the next post will be up within a day or so. I'm stealing every free moment I can find to type. Someone give RL a shove for me, it's been a bear lately. Thanks for the notes!

**Part 13**

Time crawled in the bed lined room. The entire team slept at odd intervals, then each waking separately as nightmares or concern dragged them from the depths. When Teyla eventually opened her eyes, she discovered Elizabeth seated at her bedside, a pair of reading glasses propped on the end of her nose as she quietly read over a series of reports. Not wanting to disturb the head of Atlantis, but also not able to ignore the dry tickle to the back of her throat or the painful throbbing to the top of her head, she coughed slightly.

Instantly the reports were shuffled and piled on the bed tray, Elizabeth on her feet staring back in concern. "Teyla?" Seeing recognition, she smiled and reached for the half filled cup beside the reports and pressed the straw to the younger woman's lips. "You've had us all pretty worried," she continued, setting the cup back after watching several small sips being taken.

Teyla blinked slowly, bringing her surroundings into focus. Surprised to find the rest of the team occupying the nearby beds, she looked back to Weir in confusion. "I do not recall what happened," she whispered.

Elizabeth's gaze shifted to take in the remainder of the room, but then focused back on the dark brown eyes watching her. "It's a long story and when you are feeling a little better, I'll fill you in." Waving to someone across the room without looking away, she pasted on her most convincing smile. "The good news is you are all home, safe. That's all that matters right now."

Not persuaded, Teyla tried to push up on one elbow for a better view, only to discover a nurse had taken up a position on her other side. Warm hands pressed against her wrist.

"Teyla," the petite nurse asked quietly, "can you tell me where you are?"

"Atlantis," she answered.

"And the woman standing on your other side?"

"Dr. Elizabeth Weir."

The nurse watched closely, registering the signs of discomfort. "Good. I just need to ask you a few more questions and then I'll let you rest." Setting her datapad to the side, she leaned forward and peeled back a bandage that Teyla hadn't known she had in the top of her hair line. "You were struck on the head and Dr. Biro had to place some stitches here." Tipping back, she smiled and winked, "Don't worry; your hair will grow back fine. She only needed to shave a small area."

Opening a fresh bandage, the nurse stopped and met the confused gaze that followed her movements. "Are you in pain?"

"I am… uncomfortable."

The woman nodded. "Just a little longer. You took a hard knock to the head and sustained a concussion. As Dr. Beckett usually likes to say, 'nothing broken, just a dent'." Her hands moved quickly as she replaced the gauze pad, securing it with small pieces of tape. Checking the IV line next, she picked up a syringe off a small tray and emptied half the contents into the portal. "Close your eyes and relax," she said soothingly. "This will take the edge off, but not make you sleep. You should be feeling very little pain in a moment or two."

Teyla did as she was told, feeling the cold slip of the medication making its way up her arm. When another hand took hold of hers, she blinked and found Elizabeth still at her side.

"Would you like the bed raised?" she asked quietly, seeing the lines of pain gradually diminish from Teyla's face.

"Perhaps a little." With her position elevated, she was able to get a better look at the remainder of her team. Their various states had her searching Elizabeth's face for answers. "Tell me what happened."

Without letting go, Elizabeth took up her prior spot on the chair and shook her head sadly, then her familiar firm resolution settled in place. "First off, although all of you have been through a traumatic experience, the medical staff expects a complete recovery." Beginning with Rodney's brief explanation from when he'd stumbled back with Teyla unconscious over his shoulder, then Lorne's report after he returned with Sheppard, and finally what little she knew of when Ronon made it back after his rescue of Beckett, she witnessed the disbelief and then horror wash over the Athosian's face.

"Teyla?"

She hadn't realized she was no longer listening to Elizabeth. Turning her attention back, she found the leader once more standing at her side.

"They will be fine, you'll see. None of those men know how to stay in one place very long and it's only a matter of time until they start trying to get in the way and take care of the other.

oOo

Elizabeth's prediction held merit, her words coming true as the first two restless men awoke to push away unwanted attention and ignore the insistent demands that they remain in bed . Ronon and Rodney were up within minutes of each other, both complaining that they were hungry and that they needed to check on the rest of their team. The medical staff in return, delighted to see a small bit of normalcy appear amongst some of their patients, shushed them sternly for making too much noise, and then happily went about sending someone to fetch breakfast.

Almost simultaneously discovering Teyla and Weir watching their antics, they glanced to their still sleeping friends before one clunked and the other hobbled painfully over to where the women waited.

"Gentlemen, it's good to see you up this morning. How are you feeling?" Elizabeth asked as Rodney sat in her vacated seat and Ronon dropped his hip on the edge of Teyla's bed. She was rewarded with a shrug and a grunt. "Are they this bad off world in the morning?" she said to Teyla with a grin.

A slow smile of her own blossomed and Teyla exaggerated an impatient sigh. "Worse. If it is not the debate over which MRE tastes most like watered-down roadkill," she paused to raise an accusing brow to Rodney, "then it is the arguing over the importance of weapons versus science." To this Ronon was the recipient of the other raised brow before she closed her eyes tiredly and leaned back into her pillow. Even her normal warm complexion couldn't hide the paleness of her features.

The two men turned expectantly to Elizabeth for an explanation and she stepped back, giving Rodney a hand up as they made their way to an empty area of the infirmary. "She has a concussion, but Dr. Biro has informed me that she will be fine so you two needn't worry."

"What's with the bandage in her hair?" Rodney asked, now seated on one of the infirmary stools that had wheels.

"She needed a few stitches," Elizabeth said, stepping aside as Ronon sat on the bed beside her.

When a nurse joined them carrying two trays stacked on top of each other, Rodney rolled back out of the way while she placed them on the bed beside Ronon.

Tapping the plastic covers, she eyed both men. "The doctor insists that you both finish these and then she wants you back in your beds so she can examine your bandages." With that she turned on her heels and was gone.

Rodney lifted the lid closest, Ronon lifted the other. Seeing they both had the same thing, they started to eat.

It was while half way through his scrambled eggs that the scientist abruptly put his fork down, his appetite suddenly diminished. "What happened to them? What happened to Sheppard and Carson after we left?"

Elizabeth looked to Ronon, who had cleaned his tray empty of every crumb. "I'd like to know that, also. Do you think you can fill in some of the gaps?"

By the time the runner had finished his story, Rodney had lost what little he'd eaten into a nearby trashcan. Wiping his mouth with the napkin handed to him by Elizabeth, he pushed away any attempts at help as he clunked back across the room with his cane to stand next to Carson. "We shouldn't have taken him with us."

"Rodney," Elizabeth came to stand at his side, settling her hand on Carson's arm above his bandaged hands, "it was his choice. We all heard the intel SGA-3 had learned from visiting the sister planet and presented at the pre-mission briefing. The promise of medical advancements and understanding of ancient technology had all of us eager. The MALP came back clear, we didn't know about the war."

"That's right, we didn't. And until a team can prove that the area is secure, we shouldn't be sending science and medical teams until we know it's safe. The cost could prove to be too great."

She stared him straight in the eyes. "Does that include you?"

"Of course not, I can take care of myself," he snapped in an arm-folded huff.

"But, you're saying Carson can't."

He let his silence answer for him.

"That's not your choice to make, Rodney." Elizabeth glanced down to the man in question, surprised to see the crack of blue eyes looking back at her. "Well, hello. How are you feeling this morning?"

Woken by the sound of voices, Carson had laid there listening to the conversation over him. He figured out rather quickly that he was the topic of discussion and forced his tired eyes open in hopes of identifying the speakers. When the woman he didn't recognize smiled down at him and he didn't acknowledge her question, she nodded in understanding. "I'm Dr. Elizabeth Weir," she said, " and I'm in charge of the Atlantis project."

She looked sincere, non-threatening, and he decided that he should somehow answer her and did the only thing he could, he raised an eyebrow at her. It must have been the right thing to do because her smile grew.

"Carson?" Elizabeth asked, curious to know if maybe he remembered his surroundings, but he was no longer looking at her and she followed his gaze to Rodney.

The scientist in return, stared back, his face unreadable.

"Rodney?" Elizabeth glanced between the two and then to Ronon for any idea as to what was happening. His brows were knit together, also watching to see if any recognition appeared on the physician's face.

"McKay?" he growled with a warning tone.

But Rodney wasn't listening. Instead he leaned closer to Carson, clearly putting himself in the man's field of vision. "I'm Dr. Rodney McKay, smartest man on Atlantis. Hell, smartest man in the Pegasus Galaxy really. Not that that means much except when someone is about to blow themselves to kingdom come or a wraith is staring them down in the face." He paused, waiting to see what Carson might do before he continued.

Not getting much in the way of response, he pressed on. "Ronon told us what happened to you." Carson's eyes slid sideways to find the dark eyes watching closely and he gave the runner the smallest of smiles. "Yeah, I see you remember him. It's the hair, isn't it? Kind of hard to forget," he mumbled for effect with an eye roll.

Ronon stepped up beside McKay and grinned. "He's just jealous.'

This time the physician glanced back and forth between the pair and then relaxed, a more familiar smile creeping across his face. Something about seeing the two men together got his attention and without even knowing why he looked around to find another.

"Colonel Sheppard's on the bed over there," Rodney answered without being asked. He stepped aside and picked up the mirror like he'd seen Biro do the day before. Once Carson spotted the sleeping officer, the scientist then tipped it in Teyla's direction. "That's Teyla Emagan. She's also on our team."

Carson frowned and looked back to Ronon and Rodney.

"Got hit in the head," Ronon supplied.

Elizabeth pulled a chair around for Rodney and pushed down on his shoulders so he would sit. She didn't miss his grimace and instantly let go. "She was worried about you and asked how you were doing earlier this morning," she said with a nod back towards the sleeping Athosian. "Rodney brought her through the gate. Ronon followed not long after."

"Yes, yes, this is all fascinating, but what I want to know is how do we fix Carson?" Elizabeth's mouth dropped open but the scientist wasn't about to be stopped. "You," he highlighted with a poke to the silent man's chest, "need to snap out of this before Heightmeyer gets her manicured nails into you and ships you out on a one way trip to back to Earth via the Daedalus."

Pulling his chair close, he leaned his elbows on the bed to take some of the stress off his back while he stretched out his sore leg in an attempt to get comfortable. "I'm not one to get all touchy feely, but apparently you need to hear this. We need you here. You are the only one who has at least a slight idea of what to do about the wraith." Rodney paused and pressed his hand to his lower back for a second, scowling through a twinge. "And what about me? You think even one of these quacks around here can put up with me? Or him?" He thumbed over his shoulder to Ronon seated on the bed behind him. "Two wraith tracking devices, so far, that you've removed from his back, and I don't even want to think about the arrow that he pulled out of his leg. What's he going to get himself into next?"

When Carson continued to watch him with rapt attention, Rodney took that as a sign to continue. "And Elizabeth, she needs you too. Who else is going to spout off the conscientious objections that she needs to hear in regards to a majority of Sheppard's harebrained ideas?"

Ronon looked to head of the program and discovered her nodding in agreement as McKay went on.

"And then there's Sheppard. If he isn't out trying to discover the latest Pegasus Galaxy STD, or crashing jumpers and letting the wraith use him as a personal punching bag, then he's volunteering for every pathetic half thought out suicide mission to come along like it's the latest ride at Disneyland." He sat back and ran a hand through his hair. "And people think I'm accident prone, I swear the man has a death wish."

Carson's mouth opened, his gaze flickering over those who surrounded him, then to the mirror to see Sheppard. For some reason what McKay said made sense although he still didn't recognize anyone. When the nurse from earlier returned bearing another breakfast tray, she shooed the others back to their respective beds or chairs so that her boss could be fed in peace. Now alone, he turned to look in the mirror again, only to discover the sleeping man was now awake, and watching him.

And now he couldn't tear his eyes away from the reflection staring back. The voice had returned, but this time the sense of dread was no longer present. Images again flashed before his eyes of misery and acute suffering, only the voice commanding him to 'hold on' kept the terrors away. Blinking rapidly, he found the eyes still watching him. Somehow he wanted to let the man know he had heard the words.

Opening his mouth, he silently whispered 'Hold on' to the man named Sheppard.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Part 14**

Sheppard's muddled world was a mess. Not only did he hear voices wavering in and out, reminding him of someone playing with the speed on his grandfather's old record player, but he was also hot, but yet cold. One moment his face and arms felt like they would melt, that the others in the room had to sense him radiating like a blast furnace. Then the teeth chattering cold would soak into his bones and make him feel as brittle and as fragile as an icicle, and one wrong flick of a finger would shatter him into a thousand pieces. His arms ached, his head ached, his back ached, his legs ached. 'Face it,' he mentally rambled, complaining to the only soul who could hear him, 'I feel like…'

"Colonel Sheppard?"

"Sh…" he slurred in surprise, the half-formed word barely passing his lips. His eyes seriously welded shut had little hope of opening anytime soon to see who was talking, even if it did sound like a woman. Right now it could be the Hooter bikini finalist and he still wasn't going to look, he was just too damn tired.

More words began to slide over him, slipping strangely long and then short, and he was only able to catch odd bits and pieces that made little sense. _High_ _temperature. Time. Fix dressings. Cooked._ He wasn't sure, but it sounded like the voices were working on Thanksgiving dinner.

Then someone touched his arms and the world abruptly slammed into clarity. Pain spiked from his fingertips to his spine and he was certain that a sledge hammer had been taken to his chest. Before he could stop it, a breathless pain-filled moan escaped causing the pressure on his arms to instantly release.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

Yep, same woman as before, only this time he recognized it to be Dr. Biro. Definitely not a Hooter's kind of woman his brain informed him from out of nowhere.

"Colonel, I know you are awake," she said quietly so as not to startle him, while adjusting the oxygen mask strap behind his ear that had come unhooked. Her fingertips then carefully touched his forehead, giving him something to focus on and drag himself the rest of the way into consciousness. "I'm going to finish removing the bandages from your arms and check on the status of the infection in the knife wounds. It shouldn't take long and I'll be very careful."

Not like he had any choice in the matter, so he lay there with his teeth ground together throughout the procedure, still not opening his eyes. When he felt her finish and hands no longer touched him, he released a tight pent-up breath.

"Things are looking much better," the doctor said from somewhere a little closer; she must have pulled up a stool to his bed side and sat down. "The swelling has decreased, the infection is beginning to clear up, and it's nice to see your temperature has decided to drop." There was a sound of water being poured before the mask was pushed back and a straw touched his lips. "I know your throat is still sore but you really need some fluids, Colonel. Take a sip slowly."

Obediently he drew in a mouthful, held it, and then swallowed. It was pure cold heaven. Memories of the prison came back quickly, how he longed for a drink. Drawing in a second mouthful, he swallowed too quickly and began to choke. The straw disappeared and something soft wiped his chin, cleaning up the mess.

"Okay, let me repeat myself," she admonished without a sting to her words, "slowly." She held the cup until he finished and then placed it back on the tray. "Think you could stay awake long enough to hear about the rest of your team?"

He tipped his head in her direction, the pillow feeling cool against his cheek.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

The sound of more things being moved around quietly had his attention as he tried to follow her movements. A brush of fabric across the back of his hands made him jerk and pull back.

"Sorry, just checking your lines," Biro said in a quiet tone. "It's still pretty early and I'm trying not to wake the rest of your team." For the next few minutes, she told of the others. Seeing him frown at times, she would stop and reassure that all were doing well. When she eventually got to Carson, he heard the concern in her voice.

"He…o'kay?" he whispered painfully, really needing to see the doc with his own two eyes but they still refused to open. When she hesitated, he felt his gut tighten. "Tell…me."

She shifted on the stool. "I know Dr. McKay has spoken with you several times but I doubt you remember much so I'll start at the beginning."

oOo

Once Biro had left for rounds, he rolled his head back to the center of his pillow. He didn't know how long he lay there thinking, going over everything Biro had told him. Paralyzed and mute. His mind struggled to imagine what Carson had gone through after they'd taken him that last time. If it hadn't been for Ronon, they probably would have never gotten the doc back.

Carson was too valuable to the project to be taking such risks. Hell, come to think of it, so was McKay. Maybe it was time to rethink the make-up of the teams. Completely lost in thought, he didn't hear the others beginning to stir around him.

**Part 15**

Activity picked up in the infirmary as the morning progressed. The rattling of breakfast trays, the soft murmur of voices, people moving about eventually tugged Sheppard from his thoughts. Deciding that it was time to see what was going on, he garnered what little energy reserves he had and pushed his heavy lids open a crack to reveal familiar lights that he'd already seen more than enough during his time on Atlantis. And then they rebelled and slipped closed on their own.

This was harder than he knew it should be and lay there a moment longer before giving it a second try. It was hearing the snap of McKay's voice that gave him what he needed. Rolling his head to the side to see what the scientist was up to, he discovered a small group surrounding another bed further down the room.

Ronon's back was to him, Weir and McKay on the other side, and a nurse approached carrying a tray. She said something that had them all moving away and that left just the person on the bed. Carson.

The physician must have some how known he was being watched and his eyes flickered to a mirror attached to the side of his bed. It was strange seeing the blue eyes watching him without recognition, but it was the silent whisper of encouragement that made him smile.

"Hey Doc," he rasped. "Good to see ya'." He wasn't sure if Carson could hear him or not but it looked as though he appeared to consider the words, his eyes fixed on Sheppard's reflection, intently studying the face watching him. There was little more either could do before the nurse stepped in, an apologetic smile to the colonel as she lifted the breakfast tray and set it on Carson's bedside table. Not long after, another appeared at his side bearing the same thing.

The dark haired colonel wasn't really hungry and kept glancing across the beds in hopes of catching another glance his way but from the looks of things, Carson was no longer awake.

Food lost its appeal and the headache was back. Whatever Biro had given him earlier was wearing off and before his stomach had the chance to rebel, he turned his head to the other side of the pillow, refusing to take the remainders of breakfast. It was then that he discovered Ronon sitting on the edge of the opposite bed watching him.

"Hey," Sheppard whispered tiredly, his eyes having a hard time staying open.

Dex merely nodded in return.

"You not talkin' either?" Before he got an answer, his lids succeeded in closing without his approval. There was a shuffling sound nearby and then a slight bump against his bed. He knew it was the big guy. "You did good," he whispered. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me," Ronon rumbled, "I was just doing what you would have done."

Sleep was pulling hard and Sheppard knew he wasn't going to last much longer. And that, combined with the warm flush that seemed to radiate up his hands and arms towards his face, now mingling with the headache, left him feeling like a noodle. "Gonna be here?" he was able to get out, his words slurred, and he tried to swallow.

A second voice answered from his other side. "We'll all be here."

Just a sliver of a smile of recognition touched the colonel's cheeks before he gave in, his final word cut off by the sound of deep breathing.

The scientist and the runner stared across the bed at each other, then around the room towards Beckett and then Teyla, both of whom were also asleep. It looked as though it was going to be a long quiet morning.

"Poker or Chess?"

"I'll get the cards."

Rodney huffed, but happily clunked back to his bed. "Figures."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Part 16**

If McKay and Ronon thought the morning had dragged on endlessly, the afternoon progressed even slower. Their boredom was given a reprieve when Teyla eventually awoke and bravely joined them in a hand of cards before claiming the need to rest more. Her smile gave her away though and the men grumbled like school boys but took up seats on the bed next to hers to keep her company.

Together, the worried trio watched the activity on the opposite side of the room. After Dr. Biro had officially released Rodney, his bed space was moved to the side and Sheppard and Beckett's were slid closer together. The earlier exchange between the pair hadn't gone unobserved and all realized that perhaps it would be advantageous to have them nearer to one another. Other than what the examinations displayed and the reports from Lorne and Ronon, what had actually happened in the prison was still a mystery that would have to wait until the two men were ready or able to share.

And on that note, none had missed the continual visits by Dr. Heightmeyer to the infirmary. She would smile at all of them, attempt to strike up a pleasant conversation, but they knew. Rodney had called her a shark in the water, circling in search of carnage after her last 'passing through'. A sense of distrust permeated the group, and wanting to protect their team members, the trio shifted to take up positions along the occupied beds; Teyla beside Sheppard, and Ronon beside Beckett. McKay got the dubious job of keeping an eye out for the psychologist and finding a way to stall her if she got too close. The fact that he was to be off his sore leg and resting garnered him more than a few scowls from the medical staff each time he thumped past.

In return, he would take up his empty chair and merely glare back, daring them to comment. It was the sigh of relief that gave him away when he propped his leg on a stool that had been scavenged from someone's office and dropped off in hopes of him sitting for a longer period.

"You never did say what happened," Ronon said as he stretched painfully out on his own bed.

Rodney merely shrugged, which set off warning bells in the other two. If McKay didn't want to talk about it, that meant there was more than he was willing to tell.

Teyla was next to try. "Rodney, I do not remember you carrying me back to Atlantis, but I thank you. I did not mean for you to be injured."

The scientist shot her an annoyed look, his brows drawn together before one rose slowly as if he'd solved a puzzle. "Look, I was dialing the DHD; shots were coming from all directions. Once the gate opened I went through."

"Did you get hit before or after you dialed?" Ronon asked.

Rodney cleared his throat, his eyes settled on the end of his propped foot. The dull throb to the back of his thigh grew stronger and he shifted to relieve the pressure. He wanted nothing more than to drop this conversation before it went any further. "Before," he eventually growled in irritation.

Ronon frowned. "Did you get shot in the forest or the meadow?"

McKay was now back on his feet, clunking across to the other side of the room and plopping down on Teyla's vacated bed from earlier. He had his leg stretched out in no time and settled himself against the pillows to stare at the ceiling. "What difference does it make? We made it back. End of story."

The runner went quiet, reviewing his own trip back to the gate while avoiding the second squad. There had been four chasing after McKay and he knew that he'd killed three with his blaster and winged a fourth that he'd caught a brief glimpse of as the man ran through the heavy dense dry brush and forest. He'd found blood and scuff marks on the hard ground from where the man had fallen before he ran off. Apparently he hadn't been hurt too badly for he'd started firing at Dex once the runner had reached the clearing. It took a single shot to finish the job before he followed minutes behind McKay. A cold realization flooded over Ronon that when he checked the last member of the squad, the fallen soldier appeared to have only one wound to the chest, but he knew he'd hit the man prior. Or had he?

Rodney must have known that Ronon put the pieces together because he sat up abruptly and glared hard at the runner. "Don't," was all he said, his eyes boring deep into the brown gaze staring back at him in disbelief.

"McKay…"

Chest heaving, this time Rodney held up a hand to stop him. "No. I don't waste my time listening to second guesses and suppositions. It's done. Over. There was a war going on down there. A senseless, brutal, bloody war." His hand began to shake and he tucked it in his arm pit, hoping the tremor had gone unnoticed.

Ronon swung his legs over the side of his bed and would have succeeded in going after the scientist if Teyla hadn't appeared at his side and stopped him with her own hand up in the air. "I shot you," he growled around her at the stubborn man across from him. It sounded strange even to the runner to hear the words out loud.

Off the bed, Rodney began an awkward pace in the center of the room. For some reason anger waged inside his gut and he needed to work it out of his system. "What if you did? Not like Sheppard and at least half the staff on Atlantis hasn't contemplated the thought on a daily basis. Write a memo, post it on the e-board and fulfill all their fantasies of what it was like. Maybe it will garner me a few sympathy points."

Teyla didn't stand a chance of blocking the larger man when he pushed past her to intercept the pacing scientist.

Their raised voices drew the medical staff into the room from the connecting office the same time Major Lorne strolled in from the hallway. All were surprised to find Ronon and McKay practically standing nose to nose with Teyla in the middle, her hands pressed to both of their chests to keep them apart.

"What's going on in here?" Biro demanded, shoving her way between the group to check on her patients. The rising tension in the room could be cut with a knife and she didn't have time to play referee. She reached Carson first and discovered his startled eyes open and staring back at her. A quick glance to Sheppard proved that the officer had also been woken by the noise and was trying awkwardly to push himself up on his bandaged arms to see what was happening. When she checked back over her shoulder to see why everything was now silent, she found the major steering Rodney towards an empty bed and Teyla blocking Ronon until he returned to his own spot.

None of the trio would look at her and she gained a sudden understanding of how Kate Heightmeyer must feel around this team. Giving Carson a reassuring smile, then Sheppard a raised brow that had him dropping back onto his pillow, she then turned to the others. "I don't know what you went through, any of you, but I do know this, if you don't start talking about it, it's going to tear this team apart. I don't have to be a rocket scientist to know that these two need you and if you can't act in a civilized manner, Dr. McKay, I can send you to your quarters and Mr. Dex, you can find yourself convalescing in a private room. I will not repeat myself. Understood?"

Rodney's mouth dropped open in defiance as he glared across the room, only to be knocked in the shoulder by Lorne. A silent exchange of some serious non-verbal communication clicked between the pair before the scientist folded his arms and nodded.

Ronon, too, found himself on the receiving end of a disappointed brown-eyed scowl that pushed him back a step towards his bed. Pulling himself to his full height, he towered over Teyla but she didn't budge. Her face pinched with discomfort from her head injury, she was a force to be reckoned with and he knew when to wisely stand down. Shifting around he discovered Carson's eyes open, looking at him. "Doc?"

oOo

The increased noise level dragged the sleeping physician from his unpleasant dreams only to find himself surrounded by several standing individuals whose backs were facing him. The conversation was confusing as the topic made little sense and when the woman's voice scolded the others into submission and silence, he glanced to the mirror to see if the man had been listening. Not surprised, he found the one named Sheppard watching the commotion intently.

"Doc?"

The deep rumble at his side demanded attention and his eyes drifted to the other side of his bed to find Dex staring down at him with a look of utter disbelief that rapidly turned into a wide brimming smile. Not quite sure why he was on the receiving end of such emotion, he couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at the corner of his cheeks, but realized the large man was no longer looking at him. Instead the runner was waving for Biro to come back.

"He moved," Ronon barked. "He moved his head to the side when I spoke to him."

Carson frowned; he didn't remember doing anything different. But when the lady doctor stepped up to his side, he again shifted slightly to see her better and then it dawned on him exactly what had happened. His own surprise reflected back at him in her expression.

"What's going on?" demanded a harsh whisper from Sheppard.

Biro glanced over and gave a reassuring wink. "Looks as though the swelling must be starting to go down, Colonel." She then turned back to focus on Carson. "I want to do a few tests to see if you are regaining any feeling in your extremities. You up to it?"

He lay there a moment, staring down at his bandaged hands lying useless on his chest and then to the bumps under the blanket made by his feet at the bottom of his bed. He next let his gaze flicker over those now quietly surrounding him and then to the mirror, before he turned his head minutely to meet the inquisitive look head on. Sheppard's face transformed into a grin and he nodded encouragingly. Carson couldn't stop himself from answering with a slight nod back before a prick to the bottom of his uninjured left foot caused him to glance at Dr. Biro.

"Feel that?" Another slight nod was all the answer she needed. "Good. How about you try to wiggle a toe for me?" Seconds later she felt the twitch against the palm of her hand and her face lit up. "Dr. Beckett, I do believe you just moved your big toe."

Ensuing ecstatic chaos erupted throughout the room.

**Part 17**

The air was thick and suffocating around him as he was forced to stand on the wobbly blood stained chair that tipped dangerously in the center of the hell filled room. Voices buzzed like angry flies all around him, taunting and jeering, never ending with demands and questions. His arms felt like they were on fire from the harsh angle in which they were tied behind his back. His legs shaking from exhaustion as the prior beating left him with little reserves to stand upon. But it was the rope, the coarse, stiff, reddish brown object that they tugged around his neck that filled him with fear.

His heart thundering in his chest, he watched an unfamiliar darkened face appear before his own. Rage and evil radiated back at him, no sign of humanity left in the pits of the stemming glare. And then the foot brutally kicked the chair out from beneath him… and he fell.

Instantly his eyes snapped open as the abrupt demand for air overtook his senses and it took him a moment to recognize the dim lighting of the infirmary around him. Soaked in sweat from the night terror, his body shaking uncontrollably, Sheppard's chest heaved, drawing in one ragged breath after another until he got his racing heart under control.

He suddenly needed to move, to be able to get away from the haunting memories that lurked like phantoms behind his closed eyelids. Irritably pushing away the blanket, he didn't see it drop to the floor as he struggled to sit up, his bandaged arms offering little support. But he made it, and once on the side of the bed with his legs dangling over the edge, he got his first real look of those still in the room around him.

Only two beds other than his own still held occupants. Ronon was on the far side, then Beckett, and then himself. Teyla's bed was bare and McKay's chair sat empty. Light escaped from the small office to spill into the dimmed ward, but there was no sign of any medical staff. Plucking himself free of sticky patches and wires, unwanted IV lines, and the smaller oxygen cannula, he enjoyed the temporary feeling of being free.

With no knowledge of when a anyone might return, he took his chance and slid his feet down onto the cool floor. His knees instantly rebelled and threatened to collapse until he was able to get a good grip on the side of his mattress and hold on until his equilibrium leveled out. Once the room stopped swaying and the loud ringing in his ears dissipated, he stood a little taller. Hesitantly letting go before shuffling mere inches to Carson's bedside, he then collapsed into the vacated chair.

This was the first time he'd been able to get a good look, a real look of the physician's condition, and judging by the tremors and twitching of facial muscles and slight spasms in the doc's hands and feet, Sheppard knew he wasn't the only one battling demons this night. "Carson," he whispered. His voice sounding ragged to his own ears, he continued talking quietly in hopes of quelling whatever it was that trapped his friend.

oOo

Unfortunately, comfort was far from where Carson found himself. The distant voice was lost in the cries surrounding him, of those trapped in the filth and decay and death of the prison. All he knew was that he was alone. Sheppard was gone, taken earlier by the hulking figures that dragged away victims, sometimes to bring them back in a bloody heap, other times empty handed and in search of who to torment next.

Men begged, wept openly for those they loved but had no knowledge of, while desperately clinging to the little remnants of false hope that were scattered amongst the prisoners. Some slipped beyond the torture into death quietly, others fought it bitterly and valiantly.

But it was when he'd been alone, waiting for Sheppard to be brought back that he realized that this was to be his end. Carson watched as another man sat silently in the dark not far from where he sat, holding what had to be either his child or his best friend. The care in which the man tended to the other, the silent devotion as he touched, memorized every final nuance was staggering, before he laid the body down with utmost gentleness. And then the fleeting moment of humanity was gone when rough impatient hands had reached out and grabbed him, pulling him to his feet and shoving him away. There was no final glance back.

Carson's chest literally ached at what he'd witnessed, his own heart feeling as though it shrank. And his mind, it no longer was able to comprehend how or why at such atrocities one man could perform against another. All he did know was that he would take the step so that Sheppard would live. Atlantis needed the dark haired colonel to keep it safe, and if sacrificing himself might buy precious minutes for a rescue, then so be it.

The guards returned shortly there after, dumping the battered body of his friend in the murky sludge beside him and he instantly reached out. It was in finding a heartbeat that gave him strength enough to pull Sheppard up off the floor and against his chest. With nothing left to give but simple touch, he held on until the body in his arms shifted against him. Swollen eyes eventually glanced up to meet his own, but they had yet to contain any sign of defeat, instead the briefest glimmer of life still existed. 'Hold on,' they seemed to say.

And as they rested, his own eyes no longer able to stay open, their positions became reversed. He now leaned against the colonel instead. When the time came and the heavy gate of the prison clanged open, the room drawing quiet once more, he made the choice.

The disbelief in Sheppard's eyes gave him courage as he stumbled away between the guards. He didn't look back… until a hand grabbed his arm and told him to 'hang on'.

Fighting the darkness, the pain, the suffering, he tried to pull away. This needed to end.

"No," Carson whispered.

oOo

"Yes!" Sheppard demanded, hearing the plea, from his seat next to the bed where he sat with his hand on the physician's arm. Every instinct in his gut told him that there was a battle waging and Carson needed help. Dragging himself to his feet, he stood over his friend and maintained his hold with all the strength that he had left, hoping it passed somehow into the other man. "You can do it, Carson. Just hold on. I'm here. We made it."

Time froze as he watched Becket's ragged breathing escalate. "That's right, Doc, fight it! Come back!" Sheppard was ready to start pounding his fists on the silent man's chest in hopes of a response, when a shaking bandage covered hand reached up gripped his arm, latching on with strength that wasn't going to let go.

TBC… one to go.


	8. Chapter 8

**Part 18**

A lifeline out of Hell tugged at Carson from beyond the dark depths he found himself currently trapped in; a single voice of encouragement beckoned and glimmered from a far off distance. Somehow he knew who it was and without even thinking, he accepted the offering, absorbing the help like a man clinging by his fingertips to the edge of a cliff. But the weight of the dead and their suffering would not let go, the witnessed atrocities blanketed his thoughts wrapping themselves angrily around his mind and through his soul, demanding that he stay. He opened his mouth to cry out, to push them away but his voice remained empty.

When the touch faltered, he pressed on through the cacophony that filled him, his own hand stirring to bring the comfort back. Memories of one of the brutal guards reappeared before him with the prisoner who admitted to betrayal, who no longer had a tongue in his mouth, only a bloody gaping hole. Another image moving faster of a man who hid in the darkness, whose skin had turned blue. Then a different man screaming at him, begging to die to ease his suffering.

Spiraling faster he saw a frightening beast with long white hair, dark eyes, and sharp teeth that was going to kill the man on the ground. Ronon his mind supplied from out of nowhere. Another figure half man half beast that he knew somehow he was responsible for. Michael. The invasion of his mind, the darkness and terror before being rescued.

And then when the visions became too much and he didn't think he could bear anymore his memories became mixed and twisted. He watched the dark haired man being dragged away by guards, through the gate, tied to a chair, and then screams... so many screams.

The guards, the chair, the bodies, the monsters, the screams, the bodies, the blood, the pain, the pressing bodies pounding at a dizzying speed. His heart felt as though it would rip open in his chest from all the pain. If only it would stop. Just be quiet and stop. How he longed to go back to the silence.

But before him the man named Sheppard was being taken and he couldn't stop it. It should have been him. It had been him, hadn't it?

"No," he whispered in frustration, breaking through the torment with emotion that gave him strength.

"Yes!" the voice he knew so well demanded from the other side. It continued calling to him, and this time he blindly reached out and claimed it, anchoring himsef to what he knew was solid. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. The shape beneath his hand shifted closer, the voice now felt warm, alive not cold against his face. It was time that he broke free of what held him back, to focus what he knew was part of his future. Garnering shreds of strength that lay dormant for days throughout his body, he pushed forward and opened his eyes.

And there he was. The dark eyes staring back shone with fear that slipped with ease to the familiar cocky smile as Sheppard gripped the hand holding his own. "You made it!" he affirmed, then wiped his bandage covered arm over his face and shook his head. "We made it," he amended, swallowing back his own emotion.

Carson gave the slightest nod while trying to calm his still raging heart. "Colonel," he whispered.

Sheppard's smile grew; his gaze flickering briefly to the large man now standing silently on the other side of the bed before returning to find the doc's lids drooping heavily. "Hey, hey, you need to stick around a little longer. Biro's running your show and needs to talk to you." His own legs starting to give out beneath him, he tipped back down to the chair he'd used earlier.

Feeling the movement, Carson peeled his eyes back open and took a long look at the officer. Deep purple rings and swelling circled both eyes, a multitude of cuts and abrasions marred his face, some held together with neat rows of tiny black stitches. A red flush colored his skin along with sweat beading at the edges of his hairline. Thick white bandages swathed both arms that disappeared beneath the short sleeves of the scrub top he wore. An IV line was attached to the back of his right hand. Tracking slowly up the clear tubing, he stared at the two bags attached to the pole at the top, then to the abandoned nasal cannula draped across the empty pillow, before coming back to the eyes now level with his own. "You're sick," he mumbled.

Sheppard shrugged noncommittally. "Caught a bug. I think you have it too, but not as bad."

Carson stared at him longer before slowly tipping his head to the opposite side of his pillow to find Ronon staring at him. Noticing Dex was also wearing a scrub top, he frowned. "You were there," he eventually said, hazy memories of the past few days coming to mind.

"Yeah."

"You're hurt?"

When Ronon remained quiet, Sheppard filled in from the other side. "He got nicked on his way back to the gate. You know, he's in for the usual mandatory stay for observation crap." His words got the desired reaction when Carson gave his first real hint of a smile since before the entire disastrous mission began.

"Gentlemen," Biro spoke firmly from behind Sheppard, "I believe I told all of you to stay in bed."

Dex had watched her walk quietly across the room and chose not to give her advance away, instead a hint of amusement colored his eyes at seeing the colonel actually jump when her hand fell lightly on his back.

"Do you need help, Colonel?" She recognized his rapidly diminishing condition and sighed in frustration. Ready to give him a hand back to his bed, she discovered Ronon already there, lifting him gently beneath the armpits. She in turn faced Carson. "It's good to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

He realized he had yet to take stock of his current condition. Suddenly aware of various aches, the burning pain that had seared through his back earlier now absent, and the desire to sleep for a week pulling him back into nothingness, he knew there was little chance of hiding the truth. "Not…good," he finally replied.

Her concerned face hovered over his as she examined several of the surrounding monitor readouts and then adjusted his medication. After taking his temperature and scribbling it down, she took up Sheppard's vacated seat. "I won't lie to you, you really had me worried. But…" she paused, her gaze running over him from head to toe, "I think if we can keep this bug under control, everything else is going to be fine."

Carson's tongue dampened his dry lips and she reached for a glass of water from the bed tray. She was pleased to see it empty by the time he'd finished. Sleep heavy in his face and no longer moving, she was surprised he was still conscious at all.

"Wha'…what kind of bug?" he whispered, his lids betraying him and closing off her worried expression.

She reached out and brushed a stray hair back from the side of his face, feeling the warmth of fever against her fingertips. "Nothing for you to worry about. You just go back to sleep and I'll check on you later,"

He opened his mouth to say more but only a soft puff of air escaped.

Satisfied that he was once more resting, Dr. Biro turned on the chair to face her other two patients who were both waiting expectantly for news. "This is a good thing," she said and Sheppard's eyes closed in relief before focusing on her once more. "He's not out of the woods yet, but I'd say that this breakthrough is definitely a good sign."

The two men in turn looked as though a weight had been removed from their shoulders.

"So," Sheppard eased his aching head back onto the cool pillow behind him, "do you think his memory is back for good?"

"That's not really my area of expertise. Kate and I have discussed his condition at length and from what I've witnessed here tonight, it's clear that he's had a breakthrough. But…" she paused to let them know she was serious, "he will need to spend some time with Dr. Heightmeyer. As well as you, Colonel. What you went through can't be bottled up and tucked away or someday it will wreak havoc when you least expect it. What if a breakdown were to hit during a wraith attack? And," this time Ronon was on the receiving end of her attention, "you and Rodney need to see her also. No one will be signed back onto active duty until she clears each of you."

"You and McKay? What happened?" Sheppard tried to push himself back up but his aching muscles, ribs, and arms had other ideas. Biro easily kept him back against the pillow with a hand to his shoulder. "Ronon?"

The runner's face became granite, not betraying any emotions. Instead he turned and limped back towards his bed.

"Doc?" the leader mumbled around the thermometer sticking out of his mouth.

She shushed him, waiting for the beep, then removing the object. More scribbles to her notes occurred before she met his sleepy demanding gaze. "There was an accident on the planet that the two of them need to work through. That's all I'm going to tell you. If they want you to know the rest, you're going to have to get it from them. Now," adjusting the IV line straight and reaffixing the O2 cannula, and then tugging up the forgotten blanket, she next slipped a syringe into the small bay attached to the IV tubing, "you are going to sleep the rest of the night. This afternoon, when you wake up, and if your temperature decides not to rise again, I'll see about having Kate and Dr. Weir stop by and talk to you."

He didn't have a chance to protest, the drugs in his system already at work. Without another word, his eyes closed and he was soon asleep.

Biro watched for a moment, satisfied that two out of her three patients were now resting. It was the third that she knew was going to be the hardest. Staring at the blank wall before turning around, she tightened her shoulders and sighed. It was now or never, although the thought of sedating a rampaging grizzly suddenly seemed more appealing.

oOo

Ronon was sitting on the edge of his bed waiting for her. "What happened between McKay and I is no one else's business."

She nodded, remaining quiet as she checked his bandages and then pushing against his shoulder to steer him to lie back. She was wise enough to say nothing when he complied. It was the dark eyes fixed on her that she knew she'd find if she looked, that kept her attention focused on her last chart. "I never said it wasn't."

"I don't want to talk about it."

The physician shrugged while draping a blanket over him and pulling it up to his chest. When he grunted, she couldn't stop herself from looking up to see if he needed something.

"Beckett shouldn't have been there," he said quietly, his eyes watching hers for a reaction.

This time her sigh was deep, she'd heard this sentiment more than enough times over the past few days. Licking her lips, she chose her next words carefully. "He has every right to participate in offworld missions. Just because he's a physician and might appear less experienced or soft to some, doesn't give anyone the choice to say whether he stays or goes. It's up to him."

Ronon appeared to mull her words over. "Never called him soft and would break any man I found who did."

She smiled and patted his arm. "Good, he needs to have people watching out for him. You going after him and bringing him back has pretty much made the entire medical staff your biggest fans."

"Just did what needed to be done."

"That's right and we all appreciate what you did. But remember, he also was doing what he thought needed to be done." When it looked as though he was finished speaking she stood back and eyed him critically. "Are you going to go to sleep or do I need to give you something?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes now fixed on the ceiling above him. "No more drugs," he said quietly, allowing himself to drift into a light sleep on his own. It would be enough to keep her away from administering anything but still keep him aware in case the others might need him.

"Good," she whispered. Satisfied that all was quiet, she slipped back to her office.

TBC.


	9. Chapter 9

**Part 19**

Elizabeth stood alone outside the doorway to the infirmary. Dr. Biro had just left to get some rest after giving an update in person, the news that Carson had spoken and regained his memory being too important to send in an impersonal report. And now, the head of the expedition paused to mentally regroup.

Rubbing her hands up over her face, she peered through her fingers and took a deep breath. So close. They had come so close to losing an entire team, irreplaceable members every one. The cautious recommendations made to her from a number of individuals over the past few days warranted careful consideration. Perhaps a military contingency should make up the away teams. Perhaps civilians should be sent only after their safety could be insured.

Her breath escaped slowly, her arms falling to fold above her waist. How many times had they almost lost Rodney during the past two years? With all of his bluster and self importance, the bottom line was that he was correct. There truly is no one that could replace him. And now Carson. His genetic research proved to be invaluable, and without it Atlantis would have very few with the Ancient gene.

She glanced to her watch before stepping inside. Her mind still turning over her options, she missed spying Teyla and Rodney making their way down the hallway to follow after her. Instead she made her way to the center of the room and paused briefly to survey the members of her team that were still bedridden.

Dex, now dressed in familiar garb, reclined against the raised back of his bed. His dark gaze held hers until she looked away first.

Turning to find Sheppard also watching her closely, she was pleased to see the pale haunted complexion fading along with the dark bruises and black eyes. Multiple bandages were still visible but clearly Biro's cocktail of antibiotics was at work, the persistent infection under control as he no longer appeared flush.

But it was in finding Carson situated at a slight raised angle, no longer confined to lying flat, his sleepy, clear blue eyes filled with recognition that brought a small relieved smile to her face. He was still attached to various monitors, an IV still hanging at his side, visible signs of what he went through more than evident across his face and body.

Releasing a pent up breath, she sighed once more. "Gentlemen, have I told you how good it is to have all of you home?" The sound of movement behind her caused her to look over her shoulder and find Teyla and Rodney quietly standing near the door. Waving them to join her, she tucked her arm through the scientist's, causing him to scowl at the personal intrusion before he relaxed. He in turn crooked his other elbow to Teyla, which she appeared to understand as a symbol of unity and slid her arm through his.

The room grew quiet, filled with personal reflection of the past few unpleasant days. When Carson's eyes closed and his body shuddered, Dex was at his side, his large hand resting on the physician's shoulder. A second hand hesitantly touched his other side, and then one on his leg, another on his knee, and a final with fingers brushing lightly through his hair. For one brief moment his mind flashed back on the terrifying press of bodies against him.

"We gotcha, doc," Sheppard reassured quietly from at his side.

Carson waited a moment, letting his senses recognize the smells of his infirmary, the sounds of equipment he knew by heart, the feel of the mattress and blankets, before opening his eyes and finding himself surrounded by the concerned faces of the team. Not dead, but alive, living, breathing people who would stay with him literally through hell.

Even though his hands were splinted and wrapped, he still lifted them and placed one on the colonel and the other on the runner. "Thank you, lads," he tried to say, having to stop and clear his throat before the words would come out.

**Part 20**

It had been a week since Ronon's rescue of Carson and the medical staff continued to find themselves working around extra individuals taking up space in the infirmary. All had been released except for the physician whose need for healing rest and observation made his stay longer. But to no one's surprise, Teyla could be found curled up on a nearby bed sleeping, her concussion plaguing her with headaches that she only found comfort from by being near the others. Sheppard, still weak from his ordeal in the prison and fight with the infection, discovered that his quarters were too quiet and confining. After his first restless night alone, he'd trudged back in wearing a rumpled t-shirt and jeans, took up another empty bed, and promptly fell asleep.

Rodney had to be next and the nurses started a betting pool on how long it would take before the scientist arrived with laptop in hand. When he showed up shortly after breakfast juggling a mug of steaming coffee, a pocketful of pretzels, his cane, and the expected laptop, they made their way to the office and checked the list to see who had won. The answer caused a rush of laughter that echoed out into the infirmary. Gathering the small items wagered, the head nurse placed the packets of cookies and candy bars on a tray and then made her way across the room.

"I believe these are for you," she said with a smile, presenting the items to her boss. The warm expectant smile and blue eyes looking back at her caused her to laugh. "How did you…? When did you…?" she stuttered, giving a sideways nod to the scientist now tapping away on a chair at his side.

Carson chuckled causing Rodney to look up, his attention instantly drawn to the treats. Before he got the chance to ask, the physician handed over a piece of candy that was quickly devoured around a mumbled thanks, then the keys started clicking away once more.

"I had a bit of help," he answered with a nod to the other side of the room where Ronon stood. A hint of amusement sparkled in the runner's eyes as he nodded back.

She'd almost forgotten about the large man that always seemed to be standing in the shadows keeping watch. Glancing between the two men and then back to the betting list, she quirked a brow. "Okay, but how did you know when?"

"Lass," he said quietly so as not to be overheard, "don't let his prickly exterior fool you, for he's never far from those who might need him." With that he gave a knowing look around the room and then back at her.

Her smile grew larger as she set the tray on the bed table. Hands then on her hips, she tipped her head to the side, "Dr. Biro said that today you are allowed out of bed." She was surprised at the speed in which he flipped back the covers, ready to swing his legs over the side of his bed. Before he successfully made it off though, he found himself stopped by Ronon's hand on his shoulders while Rodney stepped around pushing a wheelchair.

"Where do you think you are going to hobble off to on a broken foot, Hopalong?" The snide remark from the scientist brought on an unexpected, greatly missed, chortle from the physician.

Beckett's hand reached out and tapped the cane leaning against the chair. "Considering your current state, Rodney, you're not exactly one to be calling someone Hopalong." With Ronon's help, he slid happily albeit painfully off the bed and was maneuvered into the chair. His booted foot propped up on the footrest by Rodney, he found himself draped with a blanket over his lap by Teyla, and a grinning colonel at her side. "Where do the lot of you think you are going?"

"Wherever you are," Ronon answered for the rest of them. Taking the handles, he slowly pushed the chair at a speed he knew wouldn't be too fast for the others to keep up with and led the way out of the infirmary.

oOo

Light hearted teasing and bantering started the group off on their small journey but soon each member grew quiet. Memories awakened as sore muscles and various aches and pains slowed their steps, they found themselves coming to stop on an exterior balcony overlooking the city and the ocean. The afternoon sun was high overhead, its bright rays spreading warmth like a comforting blanket to envelope all as a gentle wind caressed their faces and mussed their hair.

Rodney was the first to slide down along the wall until he was seated. Stretching out his sore leg, he faced the open water, closed his eyes, and let the sound of distant waves wash over him. Before he knew it, Teyla was next, and then Sheppard.

Ronon continued to stand alongside the wheelchair. When he looked down and noticed Carson watching the others, he stepped to the front, and with the gentleness he'd shown on the planet, picked up the physician and placed him beside his friends. And then joined them.

"I remember being along the water," Carson finally said, breaking the stillness. "I felt safe there."

Sheppard's eyes blinked open. Staring out across the water, he pondered what had happened. "I've been in some pretty tough spots, but this time..." he shook his head, "…I wasn't sure if I was coming back."

Carson shook his head. "Nae, that's not true. You gave me the courage to keep going. Kept telling me to hang on, that the others would be coming soon."

"Doc, when they took you that last time, when you _let_ them take you instead of me, there was nothing I could do to stop you." Suddenly angry, Sheppard smacked his hand on the floor only to be rewarded with pain flooding up his arm. "You should have stayed with me," he growled, "or let them take me instead."

"I had plenty of time to think while you were gone, colonel. And each time they dragged you back," Carson paused, his eyes bright as he remembered what they'd gone through, "after the beatings, the hanging, I knew it was one less chance for Atlantis to survive."

Awkwardly Sheppard was on his feet and made his way to the railing. "What the hell are you talking about!" he shouted as he turned to face the physician. "You're the one that is needed here. I'm just a damn grunt! If I'm gone, it's not like the SGC doesn't have another to replace me."

"No, Colonel, you are the one with the gene that made this," Carson said with a waved hand in the air, "all happen!"

"And you are the one who made it so others can have that gene." Sheppard's hands scrubbed hard over his face as he tried to get his emotions under control. "Military first, civilians second. You shouldn't have been there in the first place."

"What?" Rodney yelled from his spot along the wall where he'd been quietly banging the back of his head against Atlantis. "Who in the hell came up with that stupid ass idea? I know of only one other military person who could maybe, possibly take care of this city, and she's not here! Every time you go through that gate, you don't know what you're looking for. And if you did find something, God forbid you'd touch it and all hell would break loose." Arms folded over his heaving chest, he looked deadly, if it wasn't for his legs splayed out in front of him with the cane draped across his thighs. "Science goes where military goes."

Sheppard was ready to blow. "Well you need to listen when we go off world!"

"Two way street, colonel." Rodney paused, realizing that what he'd just said gave Carson every right to be a part of the team. "We're all in this together. We need you, you need us."

Angry, emotion filled silence hung heavy around them.

"I shot McKay when he was trying to get to the gate," Ronon said from his position.

"What!" Carson and Sheppard snapped simultaneously in disbelief as they stared from the scientist to the runner.

Pulling himself up to his feet, Rodney glared at Dex. "Oh, not now!"

Carson was confused. "Is that what's going on between you two?"

Teyla, tired of the fighting and her head beginning to pound, stood up and placed her hand on Rodney's chest. "It was an accident."

"That's what I said, but he keeps bringing it back up."

The sound of soft laughter caught the angry individuals by surprise and they stared at Beckett, still sitting on the floor, like he'd suddenly grown a second head. When his laughter grew stronger, the rest couldn't help but join in. "You bloody buggers, if Kate were here right now she wouldn't let the lot of us ever off world ever again."

Rodney plopped back down beside him, hissing slightly when he jarred his leg.

"How's your leg?" Carson asked, leaning slightly to get a better look at the scientist.

Irritable pale blue eyes stared back at him. "Oh, for Pete's sake Carson, don't even think of playing doctor." Next thing he knew, Sheppard was sitting on his other side with a look of concern on his face. "No! Not you too. I'm fine and the last thing I need is for you two invalids to go all Heightmeyer on me."

Teyla glanced past the squabbling trio to find Ronon still seated beside Beckett on the opposite end of the group. His face gave away nothing as he stared back…until he tipped his head to the familiar fighting. Then he smiled.

They were talking. And as long as they were talking, that meant that they were going to be okay.

The End

A/N: Thank you all for following along on the latest adventure. Your kind words definitely helped when I was finding RL swamping my muse. Take care. Jen


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